


Tumblr Prompts (non-reddie)

by tinyarmedtrex



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Stanlon - Freeform, Stenbrough, Stozier, benverly - Freeform, hanzier - Freeform, kasplon, prompts, rarepairs, variety of drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-08-23 10:12:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyarmedtrex/pseuds/tinyarmedtrex
Summary: Tumblr Prompts - all non reddie. Pair and rating will be at the beginning of each chapter





	1. Benverly- NSFW

**Author's Note:**

> Benverly Rated M   
> (from an anon)

Bev slid her card over the lock, watching as the light changed from red to green. She looked up and down the hall and then slipped into the room, glancing around. It was one of the nicer rooms that they’d met in, complete with one king size bed and  mints on the pillows. She smiled, Ben was really trying this time.

Glancing at the time she saw that she had about ten minutes until he was supposed to arrive. Going to the bathroom she changed into the slinky black lingerie she bought and then laid on the bed, trying to think of how to pose. It probably didn’t matter, the two had been doing this for so long that Ben didn’t care what she was wearing or how she sat but she liked how dark his eyes got when he saw her waiting for him. The light blue changed from sweet and joking to intense. Just thinking about it made heat build in her stomach. 

She ended up on her stomach, feet in the air. She knew that Ben liked her legs and ass, this would let him run his hands over them. She smiled at the thought, missing how his hands felt on her. It had been too long. Lately, there hadn’t been time to slip away, too many other obligations kept them from each other but now they had all night and she planned to make the most of it. 

Bev heard the door click and watched as Ben came in. He was coming straight from work, wearing a fitted blue shirt and gray tie. The shirt brought out his eyes, the blue popping against it. She smiled, “Hey sexy.”

He pushed the door shut behind him, smiling at her as he toed off his shoes. “Hey yourself.” He walked over to Bev, kissing her deeply as she sat up, his hands tangling in her red hair, not letting her until he had finished they had a long kiss as a hello. 

As they kissed, his hand trailed down, going slowly down her back and feeling the soft satiny fabric. She knew that he liked how it felt against his hand, how he could feel her curves as his slid down. His hand stopped on her ass, giving it a loving squeeze and she smiled. Her hands found his hair, running her fingers through it as she tasted stale coffee on his lips. A sign of a long day. 

“Missed you,” She said, pulling back and looking up at him. “How’s the old ball and chain?” 

He smiled. “Same old same old. How’s your man?”

“Boring and balding.” She answered with a smile. He frowned but she grabbed his tie, pulling him down on top of her, feeling the familiar weight that she had missed. 

They started kissing again, lazily. Ben’s mouth moved along the column of her neck, nibbling at her pressure points. He knew just where to kiss her to elicit a groan. He found one of those spots and sucked on it, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to  make her hips buck up against his. His hands ran over her sides, the touch light enough that it nearly tickled but with enough heat that she wanted more. “Ben,” She whispered after a few minutes. “You’ve got far too many clothes on.” 

He stopped, propping himself up on an elbow, and smirked. “What are we going to do about that?”

Her hands moved to his top buttons, undoing the ones she could and stopping where their chests met. He looked at her, his eyes jokingly asking what her plan was now. “You seem stuck.” He commented. 

Moving quickly Bev flipped them, pulling up the lingerie so she could straddle his hips. She laughed at his surprised expression. “I’m never stuck.” She told him, her fingers working quickly to undo the buttons as his hands went to her thighs, running them over the fabric and playing with the hem. 

“This is a great color on you.” He said, pinching some cloth between his fingers. 

“You’d like any color on me.” 

He nodded, pulling her down for a kiss. “That’s true, I probably would. I like you in nearly anything.” He paused, then kissed her again. “Or nearly nothing. Both are good.” 

She smiled into the kiss, dragging her hands over his undershirt, feeling the firmness of his chest under her palms. “You flirt, you’ve already got me here.” 

He slipped his hands under the sheath, running them slowly along the edge of her underwear, following her hip bone down into the v of her legs. Bev arched forward, silently asking for more contact but he didn’t comply. His fingers stopped and went to her other leg, continuing the same teasing action.  

“Ben,” She whined, wanting him to touch her, wanting his large hands on her, in her. She loved how they looked on her, so strong and sure and slightly rough against her smaller frame. 

“Yes darling?” He asked, snapping her underwear. 

She looked down at him, pursing her lips. “Don’t tease.” 

In response he ran a finger against her entrance, still over her underwear. She could feel herself getting wet with anticipation, just from having him close. She knew he was getting excited too, she could feel him growing under her. 

“What’s the rush?” He asked, stroking against her underwear. Bev bit her lip, wanting his finger inside her but also feeling like they had so many other things to do first. 

_ Two can play at this game, _ she thought, sliding off Ben’s legs. She ran a hand over his thighs, up to his belt where she carefully undid it, letting her fingers slide over the growing bulge. 

Slowly, she undid his button and lowered the zipper, not missing the small hiss that escaped from his lips. Bev was torn between going slow, inching his pants slowly down his hips and legs, and ripping them off. She was saved from deciding as Ben sat up, discarding his shirt and then wiggling out of his pants and boxers. Smiling at the enthusiasm, she asked, “I thought we were going slow?”  
Ben laid back down, pulling her back on top of him. “You’re too sexy and it’s been too long. I can’t help it.” He said, kissing her again. Bev could feel his erection against her now and she ground into it, enjoying the groan from Ben. 

“Do you want me to help me take this off?” She asked, sitting up. She turned around and lifted her hair, showing Ben the laced back. 

“God yes,” His hands came to her shoulders, massaging them. She relaxed under his touch, feeling the tension slipping from her shoulders. 

Closing her eyes she remarked, “That feels amazing.” 

He chuckled. “That balding husband of yours doesn’t give you massages?” 

She let out a small groan as he worked on a knot. “Nah, he’s always gone at the office. There’s no time for this.”

“What a fool, to not realize what he has.” Ben said as his hands roamed over her back, eventually reaching and undoing the bow. She felt the shift loosen and Ben’s hands came underneath it, pressing his palms to her stomach then roaming up. Ben shifted, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her, his hands covering her breasts. She sighed, loving how his hands carefully cupped them, fingers working her nipples until they became hard and pebbled. 

One of the straps had fallen and Ben was kissing her bare shoulder, leaving a kiss on each of her freckles. She leaned against him, feeling safe in his arms. Ben’s hands grew rougher, moving faster, and she whimpered, wanting more. 

“God, Bev, I missed those noises.” He whispered into her ear, teeth grabbing her lobe and tugging lightly. 

“You’ll hear more of them soon.” She said, gasping as one of Ben’s hands moved down, finally slipping under her underwear and pressing a finger against her clit. He rubbed it gently, his other hand still on her breast. “Ben, fuck.” Her voice becoming breathy as he continued. 

“Do you like that Bev?” He asked, his voice still in her ear. It was hoarse and deeper. “Like how it feels?” 

“Yes, fuck, yes.” She said, arching into him. She could feel Ben’s erection against her. 

Moving again she pushed him back down, peeling off her underwear and shift then straddling him. She took his erection and rubbed it against her entrance, feeling herself getting wetter. Looking at Ben, she saw that his eyes were closed, his hands on her thighs again. 

“Love how you feel in my hand Ben, so big,” She moaned, stroking him slightly as she rubbed the head against her clit. 

“Bev,” He said, his voice broken. She could tell that he as trying not to thrust up. Opening his eyes he reached for the small bottle of lube she had left on the table, pouring some on his fingers and then handing it to her, she coated a a few fingers too. Ben slid his slicked fingers into her and she bucked into them. “Bev, fuck you’re so wet.” He said, working his fingers inside her

Bev grabbed him again, her hand sliding over Ben’s erection much easier now. Both continued and the room soon filled with their moans and grunts.  Finally she couldn’t take it anymore, Bev leaned down and kissed him, hard, a signal for Ben to remove his hand. She let go of him instead sinking down onto him, both moaning as they finally connected. Bev started rolling her hips, enjoying the feeling of Ben inside her. His hands found her breasts, kneading them as she moved. 

Bev loved this, being able to watch Ben’s expressions as she rode him. His eyes were closed, breath coming in small huffs. 

“Do you want me to?” She asked and he gave a quick nod. Arching back her lubed finger found Ben’s hole and she carefully pushed a finger in, Ben’s hips bucked as she did, making her smile.  Ben had been unsure about this at first but after a lot of coaxing he had agreed, letting Bev work a finger or two into him. She wanted to work up to a toy but he was still unsure about that. For now, she liked watching his face shift from discomfort to enjoyment. 

His hand left her breast, roaming down to her hips and then finding her clit again, rubbing it as they continued. Ben knew exactly how to bring Bev to the edge and soon she found herself gasping as an orgasm flowed through her, her legs clenching around him. Removing her finger she bent down and kissed him, running a hand through his hair. 

“Turn over,” He said. Bev was happy to comply, crawling off Ben with a small whine and then getting on her back, near the edge of the bed. Ben stood between her legs, grabbing them and easily slipping back into her. He started thrusting into her and Bev gripped the bed sheets.

“God Ben, yes, yes.” She said, throwing her head back. 

Ben slowed slightly and she opened her eyes, looking at him. “Don’t want to cum yet, want to enjoy you like this.” He said, pulling out slowly and then pushing back into her. 

“Fuck,” She said, feeling her second orgasm building. He continued this, keeping up with the slow movements until she came again. Once she finished Ben snapped his hips into her, causing both to groan. Now Ben started to move faster, his thrusts growing more erratic. 

“Bev, fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He said, his hands gripping her legs tighter. “I’m gonna-” and then he cried out and Bev felt him spill into her. He stopped, panting and slowly pulled out of her, falling next to her on the bed. 

She rolled next to him, giving him a quick kiss. “Missed you.” She told him, moving some of his hair to the side.

Lazily, he opened an eye. “I know, it’s been too long.” He pulled her close, peppering her with kisses. “We need to make more time for each other.” She nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. 

After a few minutes Bev stood, going to the bathroom then standing at the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” Ben asked. 

“Should I call Richie? Make sure the kids are okay?” 

Ben shook his head, reaching out for her. “Eddie is there too, I guarantee the house is intact and the kids are fine. Let’s have this night.”

She nodded then fell into his arms, easily getting comfortable in his arms. “Last time Richie made them triple decker sundaes at 9pm.” 

He laughed. “True but then he had to deal with them not falling asleep until 1am, he learned his lesson. It’s good training for when they adopt.” 

“I’m not sure I want our kids as their guinea pigs-” She started but Ben kissed her.

“It’s fine Bev, I promise.” She hummed in agreement, letting herself fall partially asleep in his arms. A few minutes later he nudged her, causing her to look up. “I’m not really balding, am I?” He asked, running a hand worriedly through his hair. 

She laughed, grabbing his hand and kissing it. “No hun, don’t worry. You still have the same amount of hair as you did when we were 16.” 

“Okay, but you’d tell me if I was, right? I don’t want to end up with a terrible comb over like Bill.”

She kissed her husband, “I’d tell you, promise.”

“Love you Bev.”

“Love you too.” 

 


	2. "Put me down!"  Stenbrough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Put me down!" Stenbrough   
> Rated G

This is bullshit, Stan decided, looking around the surrounding area. He was at a public pool, surrounded by kids with floaties and oblivious parents. He would have preferred to be at the barrens or, ideally, inside. But his friends had insisted that they couldn’t spend the summer inside and outvoted him Richie told that Stan needed to talk to people other than the six of them, to which Stan’s reply was “Why?’’ But then Bill had smiled at him and told him that it was a summer to be bold, and that being bold occasionally included spending time around new people. So Stan had sighed dramatically and had changed into his swimsuit.

Well Stan wasn’t bold and he wasn’t having fun. No one who knew Stan Uris would describe him as bold. Cold, maybe. Sarcastic, definitely. But bold? Never.  He preferred known quantities, he liked things to be planned and predictable whenever possible. And this, this insane public pool was anything but that. He looked around, watching as Richie and Eddie tried to best Ben and Bev in a game of chicken. All of them were laughing and Richie was swearing like a sailor, earning some dirty looks from the sunbathing moms. Mike and Bill were across the pool from him, sitting at the juice bar with some girls.  And Stan was alone on a beach chair with their towels. He had a book but he wasn’t reading it, he had been on the same page for the last twenty minutes.

Being bold was stupid, he decided, watching as one of the girls tried to flirt with Bill, putting her hand on his arm and leaning in. Mike was laughing happily at something the other one said but Bill looked less thrilled. He didn’t like meeting new people. His stutter was fairly well contained with the losers but with new people he sometimes reverted back, especially if he was nervous. And flirting with girls definitely made him nervous, he had told Stan as much last week, when they were biking around town together.

Bill’s eyes scanned the pool and caught Stan’s. He smiled and gave Stan a half wave, which Stan returned. ‘Good book?’ he mouthed, pointing to Stan’s hand.

Stan shrugged, ‘Ive read worse’. He mouthed back, making Bill smile and roll his eyes at Stan’s non-answer. The girl finally noticed Bill’s distraction and turned to glare at Stan, who hurriedly looked back down at his book and away from his crush.

Stan shook his head, his stupid crush on Bill. Stan had liked him for years, since he realized that he liked boys. The stubborn, strong leader of their small group. The guy who had an easy smile and bright red hair that made Stan’s stomach drop. The worst person to have a crush on because he was one of Stan’s best friends. They were constantly together and Stan had to steel himself every time their hands touched or arms brushed. A completely stupid crush that he tried to get over but hadn’t yet.

He had gone on a dates, trying to meet someone who was actually interested in him, rather than pining over his friend. Surprisingly, his parents hadn’t cared that he was gay- they were more concerned that he dated someone Jewish. It felt like he had been set up with every gay jewish boy in Maine- all five of them. And they were nice, he talked to some of them on the phone occasionally, just to have other people who understood his situation.

But none of them made him feel like Bill did, warm and flush, and invincible. Bill made him feel strong and confident, bold even. He had been the first person Stan had come out to, knowing that it would be easier to tell the others with Bill by his side. And Bill hadn’t asked Stan any stupid questions, or asked if he was sure. He had just pulled Stan into a hug and told him that they would love him forever. What more could he ask for?

Stan looked up again, hoping enough time had passed that he was being ignored again. But Bill and the girl had disappeared. They weren’t sitting on the bar stools anymore. Stan’s stomach sank. They had probably gone somewhere more private. He refused to let himself think about why they would leave. Bill was free to go wherever he wanted with whomever he wanted, Stan reminded himself. Just like Stan was free to sit in this obnoxiously colored pool chair and read his book.

He was watching Eddie try to unseat Bev in a fraught game of chicken when someone sat on the edge of his chair, near his feet. His attention turned to Bill, who appeared to be alone.

“I thought you were with that girl.” Stan commented, trying to ignore the fact that a shirtless Bill that was close to him. Bill had filled out over the years, no longer a skinny, lanky kid he now had broader shoulders and developed chest. Richie always teased him that he was shaped like a dorito, wide on the top with narrow hips. Bill usually replied that not everyone could look like Gumby.

Bill shrugged. “I found someone I’ve rather be with.” He said, smiling at Stan. His voice had gotten deeper over the years, at times almost gravelly, but it still had the same teasing air that he always had.

“Oh yea, where are they?” Stan asked, purposely misunderstanding.

“They’re under an umbrella, trying to keep their pale complexion in tact.”

Stan looked up at his large umbrella that was keeping him completely shaded. “ Vampires are very in right now. I’m just trying to keep up with the trends.”

Bill laughed and the corners of Stan’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “You’ve never once cared about the trends.”

He shrugged, “I’m very trendy now. Things change.”

Bill nodded slowly, looking at Stan in a way he didn’t recognize. It was like Bill was admitting something for the first time, something that he had known for a long time but never acknowledged. Stan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Things do change.” Bill agreed after a beat.

Neither spoke and Stan was reminded that he wasn’t bold, not when it came to Bill. If he was, he would ask what Bill meant, insist that he explain the look. Instead he asked, “Card?”

Bill smiled, “You brought cards to the pool?”  Stan nodded. “Of course you did. Sure, let’s play.”

Stan crossed his legs so Bill could move to the edge of the chair and started to shuffle. They played for the next few hours, as people drifted around and the pool slowly cleared out. Eventually, Eddie came over to ask if they wanted to leave with everyone else but Bill shook his head, insisting that they finish their game.

Which is how they ended up alone, everyone else had gone home for dinner and the pool was closing soon. They had eaten some of the snacks Ben had left in lieu of dinner, neither ready to leave just yet.

“Pool’s closing in 15 minutes kids.” One of the employees called.

Stan nodded in acknowledgement then turned to Bill. “We may need to continue this later.” He said, pointing at their game. Bill nodded and they started to pack up.

As they did Bill looked down at the water. “We never even got into the pool.”

Stan shrugged, “Next time.” Though, secretly, he was hoping that this was their only visit to the pool this summer.

Bill got a mischievous look in his eyes and put down the bag he was carrying. “I don't think we should wait.”

Stan eyed him warily. “What do you mean?”

Bill lunged at him and Stan trying to sidestep him but failed, Bill’s long arms caught him around the waist.

“What are you doing?” Stan asked, struggling uselessly against Bill’s stronger grip. It didn’t help that he was trying to ignore how Bill smelled like coconut sunscreen. Bill had him in a weird half hold, his arms wrapped around Stan’s waist while they were hip to hip.

“We’re going in the water.” Bill replied, like it was obvious. He picked Stan up and started to carry him to the edge.

“What? No! Put me down!” Stan said, struggling more earnestly now. “I don’t want to get wet!”

Bill’s reply was next to his ear, quiet and low, “Too late.” He fell into the pool, taking Stan with him and making a loud splash. Once they were in the water Bill let go and Stan swam up, breaking through the water with a sputter.

“Why did you do that?” He asked, slightly annoyed. His hair took forever to dry and always stuck up at strange angles if he didn’t do it right. Richie called him pube head for a whole summer once.

Bill swam over to him, smiling, and Stan felt his annoyance melt. Bill’s smile the broad and earnest and it was just for him.

He stopped near Stan, looking more serious. “It’s summer, we need to enjoy it.”

“Is that your official stance?” Stan asked, teasing him.

Bill nodded slowly. “Definitely. And we need to be bold.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “I’m already sick of that word. I’ll never be bold Bill, I’m not like you.”

Bill brought a hand to Stan’s cheek, cradling it softly. “I know you’re not. That’s what I like about you.”

The way he said it made Stan certain he didn’t mean as a friend. He looked at Bill, trying not to get his hopes up. “What does that mean?”

“I like that you’re not like me, I like that you brought cards and a book to the pool. I like-” he paused, eyes fixed on Stan. “You. I like you.”

Stan flushed, part of him still not believing it. “Really?”

Bill nodded and Stan waited another beat before surging forward and kissing Bill, Bill returned the kiss, his hand still on Stan’s cheek, holding him there. When Stan finally drew back he saw that Bill was grinning, Stan was sure his expression mirrored it. “I like bold.” He said, leaning in to kiss 


	3. Running Partner - Stanlon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stanlon  
> “ You want us both to get in shape and I hate working out/running but your ass looks really good in shorts oh the things I do for my friends and their nice asses”
> 
> Rated T  
> Mentions of suicidal thoughts? if you squint.

Stan’s alarm started beeping and he groaned, groping around to turn it off. He flipped over, looking at the time.

6am.

First week of summer vacation.

Running is stupid, he decided.

Stan rubbed his eyes and sat up, trying to motivate himself to get up and dressed. It took some time but after ten minutes he had managed to throw on old gym shorts and a t-shirt and was lacing up his old sneakers.

He shivered as he walked outside, the cool air hitting his arms as he wrapped them around himself.

“You ready?” Mike asked, looking far too awake for this early.

Stan frowned. “No.”

Mike laughed and an unwilling smile jerked at Stan’s lips. “Once we get started it’ll get easier, I promise.”

Stan didn’t believe him, at all, but he nodded and Mike started running, a slow easy lope. Stan followed behind, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. He wasn’t a runner, or even vaguely athletic. In fact, when Mike had asked if anyone wanted to train with him Stan had replied that the only running he did was from his problems.

But Mike had continued asking, saying he needed someone to train with before football practice started. Stan had finally agreed when Mike had appeared at his locker during the last week of school. “Come on man, the only other person who offered was Richie and you know he’ll just talk about Eddie the whole time.”

“Mike, I’m not a runner.” Stan repeated but he was breaking down. Especially when Mike plead with him, putting his hands up in a praying manner.

“I’m begging here!” He cried. “Don’t make me run with Richie. We won’t even make it a block before he needs to stop and smoke.”

Stan had nodded, unable to resist Mike or his request. So here he was, waking up at the crack of dawn during summer vacation because Mike insisted that they run before it got too hot. Mike had offered to drive to Stan’s house so he could sleep longer, eliminating his final excuse.

Stan started following Mike, trying to focus on not dying as they ran. Mike was definitely more in shape than him, he could tell that, for him, this was an easy pace but it took a lot for Stan to keep up. It didn’t help that he kept getting distracted. Stan found himself watching Mike’s back in his tank top, how his shoulder muscles moved as he swung his arms, the definition in his arms from years of working on the farm.

His eyes moved down without Stan’s permission, looking at how Mike’s shorts sculpted to his ass. He swallowed, trying to convince himself to look away. Unfortunately he should have looked away, at least to notice the crack in the sidewalk. Stan hit it awkwardly and tumbled, falling painfully on his hands and knees.

“Shit! Stan! Are you okay?” Mike turned and crouched near him, gently grabbing Stan’s hands and looking them over. They were covered in tiny cuts and he had bloody gravel stuck in them. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to faint.

“Come on, we’ve got to get you back.” Mike said, helping him stand. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.” Stan said tersely. The lie would have been more convincing if he hadn't stumbled as he took a step. He decided that running was really stupid.

Mike sighed. “Stubborn ass.” He said, crouching in front of Stan. “Hop on.”

Stan looked at Mike’s sweaty back, “What?”

Mike turned to him, “I’ll give you a ride back. It’ll be quicker.”

Stan thought about arguing but decided he didn’t really want to. He awkwardly climbed onto Mike’s back, hooking his legs around Mike’s waist and arms over his shoulders. Mike’s hands were on his thighs, warm and protective. He felt a little ridiculous, it had been years since his last piggy back ride, but he also felt safe and happy.  

Mike walked back slowly, talking to Stan as he did. Luckily- and embarrassingly- they hadn’t made it very far and were soon back at the house.

Mike put him down as they got inside. Both of Stan’s parents had already left for work, leaving them alone. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Mike said, walking to the bathroom.

“I can do it myself.” Stan muttered, starting to feel foolish. He  already fell running, he didn’t also want Mike to have to bandage him.

“I know you can.” Mike said, turning to give him a warm smile. “But it’ll be easier if I help.”

Stan couldn’t argue with that. He followed Mike into the bathroom, pointing to the first aid kit. “Okay, let’s start with the peroxide.” Mike said, opening the bottle while Stan put his hands over the sink, trying to brace for the stinging.

“  _Fuck_.” He swore as the liquid washed over his hands.

Mike looked at him, sympathetic. “Sorry, I know. But we should clean out your hands before getting the pieces out.” Stan nodded, chewing on his cheek to keep from swearing more. Once Mike was satisfied he let Stan sit on the closed toilet while Mike perched on the edge of the tub.

“This is going to hurt.” Mike told him, taking one of Stan’s hands and holding it gently. Stan willed himself not to blush from the intimate contact. He usually didn’t like when people touched him but it was different with Mike, he found it calming. Mike started to fish pieces out and Stan felt less calm, trying to stop himself from swearing.

“Talk to me.” He said, “Distract me.”

Mike nodded. “Why’d you agree to this?” Mike asked, not looking up.

“Because I didn’t want an infection?” He replied, confused.

Mike chuckled and shook his head. “The running, I know you hate it. Why’d you agree?”

“Oh.” Stan did flush now, thinking about the reason. Instead of explaining that the other reason spilled out, the one he was even more loath to admit.

“The clown.” He nearly whispered, exhaling quietly as he admitted it.

Mike’s eyes snapped to him, his concern obvious. “He’s gone Stan, he’s been gone for years.” He said, hesitantly.

Stan nodded. “I know that, I do. But I feel like-” He huffed, not wanting to explain but Mike’s warm eyes stayed on him, willing to listen without judgement. “I feel like it affected me more Mike. Everything, it just hit me more than everyone else. And I’m worried that, if it does come back, I’m worried that I couldn’t face it again. I don’t know what I would do.” Sometimes it was hard to remember the details, everything felt hazy, but the memory of paralyzing fear never left. He would wake up in a cold sweat, sure that something was going to get him, that this was the end.

“What do you mean- you don’t know what you’d do?” Worry laced Mike’s voice.

Stan had thought through his options, if Pennywise did return, but he wasn’t ready to talk about that. So he lied and said, “I’m not sure. But I wanted to get stronger, so if he came back I’d be ready- or so I could run away at very least.” He gave Mike a half smile, trying not to sink into the darkness of the moment.

Mike didn’t respond for a minute, Stan watched as the thoughts tumbled in his head. He had always liked that Mike thought before he spoke. His words had weight. Unlike Richie, who used them like he would disappear if he didn’t meet a daily word count or Bill, who chose his so carefully it occasionally felt robotic, Mike always measured his words, giving each one due significance.

Finally he spoke. “If It does come back, we’ll face to together. You wouldn’t be alone.”

“I know.” He replied. The scar on his hand was the reminder. They were united.

“I’d protect you.” Mike added, fierceness in his voice. “I know you don’t need it but I would.”

Stan nodded, not immediately trusting his voice, then added, “We can protect each other.” Stan asked carefully. “Deal?”

Mike nodded, “Deal.” Then Mike looked at Stan’s hands, which had stopped bleeding but still looked raw. “We need you to stop tripping over your own feet before you can protect anyone else though.” Another thing Stan liked, Mike always knew when to shift a conversation.

“Hey!” Stan said, swatting Mike’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “I got distracted.”

Mike looked at him, smirking. “What exactly distracted you?”

Stan felt the tips of his ears go red. “A bird.” He lied.

“Oh, a bird. We don’t see those every day.” Mike teased, bending back over Stan’s hand and starting to fish out the asphalt.

Stan hissed and gritted his teeth before he replied. “Normally Richie scares them off. Or Bev.”

Mike laughed, continuing his actions. “We do have some loud friends.” He agreed. They talked while Mike cleaned out his hands, then knees.

As he finished bandaging Stan’s legs he paused then said,  “You know you can always talk to me, right? About anything?”

Stan nodded, “I know. Thank you.” And he meant it. Because he knew Mike meant it.

Mike insisted on waiting a few days before they ran again but the following Monday he showed up at Stan’s house at 6am on the dot. And he kept showing up every day, 6am, rain or shine for the next two months. Stan didn’t grow to love running but he did start to appreciate it, especially as he got better at it. Eventually he could keep up with Mike- which was slightly disappointing because he couldn’t stare at him anymore but the sense of accomplishment was worth it.

It also gave Stan a reason to spend more time alone with Mike. After running Mike would hang out with Stan for a few hours, they’d watch TV or play a game, until he had to get home for chores. Stan lived for those few hours, when he could be with Mike without Richie making weird sexual jokes or Ben grinning them. He got to just be with Mike. Mike listened when Stan talked about his birds, or about how he wanted to go to Seattle for college. He never made fun of Stan, just asked him thoughtful questions and cracked cheesy jokes.

Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end. Today was the last time they’d be running together, football practice was starting for Mike and he would be too busy for running.

Stan stepped outside, trying not to feel disappointed. Mike was waiting, this time with a small backpack. “What’s that?” Stan asked.

“A surprise. I thought we’d run to the barrens today and take a break before we came back.”

Stan nodded. The barrens would be the furthest they’d gone but he was up for it. Anything to prolong the day.

They started off with a jog, slowly picking up speed as they went. They didn’t usually talk while they ran, something Stan appreciated. He could pay attention to other things. The birds singing overhead. Mike’s quiet breathing. The sidewalk.

Finally, they reached the overlook and stopped, catching their breaths and looking at the water below. “Here, sit.” Mike said, swinging the backpack off. He pulled out a small blanket and laid it on the ground.

Stan sat, watching as Mike took out everything else. “Coffee.” He said, handing Stan a thermos. “My mom’s scones.” He put a small tupperware on the ground. “Jam and butter.” 2 small tupperwares. “And some random snacks.” He poured out the contents, granola bags and fruit spilled out. “And water, of course.” He handed Stan a water bottle.

“Thanks.” He took a drink and Mike settled next to him, both leaning against a fallen log. “What’s all this for?” Stan asked.

Mike shrugged. “A thank you?” He asked. Then repeated, “A thank you. For being the only one willing to run with me.”

“I enjoyed it.” Stan said and Mike raised an eyebrow. “I did! Eventually! You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.” Mike spread butter and jam on a scone before handing it to Stan. “But I wanted to. I’ve liked this. I like spending time with you.” He looked at Stan and Stan couldn’t quite read his expression. Nervousness for sure. And maybe hope?

“I have too.” Stan replied honestly. “I’ve really liked it.” Without realizing it, both leaned in slightly.

Mike’s face was so close Stan could see that his brilliant hazel eyes were rimmed with gold. They were fixed on Stan, watching him with such intensity that he nearly looked away, no one had ever looked at him like that. Like they were learning his face, memorizing it so they could replay the memory over and over.

“I’d like to-” Mike paused, not breaking eye contact. “Spend more time with you? Just you.”

“Like on a date?” Stan asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. Mike nodded slowly, like he was worried that Stan was repulsed by the idea. “I’d love that.” Stan said, a grin breaking out on his face.

Mike looked at him, now wearing a shocked expression. “Really?”

Stan nodded. “Hell yes. Did you think I was running just for my health?”

Mike laughed, relieved. “I guess not.”

They were still close, both grinning. Stan made a decision to stop running from things and start running towards them and leaned in, kissing Mike quickly. He pulled back and Mike put a hand in his curls, pulling him back in for a longer, soft kiss.

Then, they sat together, hand in hand and enjoyed the picnic breakfast, until they had to get back. Maybe running wasn’t so stupid, Stan thought.


	4. “Is murder really that bad? What if that person was a douchebag?” Stozier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stozier  
> Rated G  
> “Is murder really that bad? What if that person was a douchebag?”

“Is murder really that bad? What if that person was a douchebag?” Richie asked from Stan’s dorm bed as Stan walked in.

Stan looked around, trying to figure out how Richie was in his room.  He sighed and dropped his bag. The perks of being friends with Richie, he just showed up wherever the hell he wanted.  Like a cockroach.

“How did you even get into my room?” Stan asked, pushing him aside so he could sit too.

“You need to watch your keys more carefully. Someone could, theoretically, make a copy of them.” Richie said with a shrug. “The fact that you’re more worried about that than my potential murder says a lot though.”

Stan laid down next to Richie, their arms and legs touching. It was impossible not to touch a little, in the small beds. Stan’s hand twitched next to Richie’s, wanting to reach out but not letting himself. They were best friends, he reminded himself. That’s all they’d ever be. He knew that.

Richie was still talking, unaware of Stan’s churning thoughts. “I mean, the world would be better without some people, don’t you think? I’d be doing charity work, really.”

Stan sighed. “Who exactly are you killing?”

Richie turned to him, fake affront on his face. “Staniel! You haven’t been listening to a work I’ve said! You’re a terrible partner!”

“We’re not partners.” He mumbled.

“Accomplice then.” Richie looked back up at the ceiling. “That asshole nearly hit me again, when I was on my skateboard. The one with the mercedes? He’s got it out for me Stan. I’m telling you.” He blew a piece of hair off his face and Stan resisted the urge to reach up and brush it aside for him. Especially when it fell back over his eyes.

Stan nodded. Richie had been complaining about this guy for weeks. He parked across multiple handicap spots and never checked before pulling out of the parking lot, he had nearly hit Richie at least three times. Richie had also served him at the campus cafe and the man had demanded that Richie’s manager fire him after Richie accidentally used 2% instead of skim. Luckily, Richie’s manager had taken his side but since then the man had been making rude comments whenever he came in, watching Richie carefully whenever he made his drink. Richie had dubbed him the Skim Man and he did sound like a dick. But Stan also knew that Richie had a way of making enemies if he was around people for too long.

He sighed. “Richie are you sure you didn’t do something to this guy? Did you scratch his car or something?”

“No!” Richie said, pounding on the bed. “I didn’t! This guy is just an ass.” he sighed. “I don’t know, he probably secret wants to bone or something. You know, like picking on the kid you like. He’s not my type though. He smells like ax body spray and daddy’s money.”

Stan glanced at Richie and saw that he actually looked upset. On impulsive, he grabbed Richie’s wrist, wrapping his fingers around it.  He felt Richie’s rapid heartbeat, assuming that he was worked up from nearly being hit, again. “Richie, I’m sorry. I believe you.”

Richie looked over at Stan, not moving his hand. “Thanks. I just, shit, this guy is under my skin. And he’s only getting worse. I really think I’d be doing the universe a favor by offing him.”

Stan didn’t like seeing Richie this upset. And, from what he said, this guy did deserve some payback. Stan thought for a minute then spoke, turning his head to meet Richie’s eyes. “What if we did something else? You know, something less than murder?”

Richie’s bright green eyes met Stan’s blue ones and he narrowed them. “Less than murder? Stanny, what’s the point?”

Stan blinked, trying to ignore how Richie’s eyes focused on him, on how close they were. “Hear me out.” He explained his ideas to Richie, who nodded and grinned.

“I fucking love it. I never would have thought you’d be helping me prank. “

“Can’t let someone get away with treating my best friend like that.” Stan said, watching as Richie’s tongue darted out, licking his lips.

“Yea, best friend.” He replied, his tone subdued. But then he was back, sitting up and grabbing a notebook. “We need to make a list of supplies.”

\-------

A week later they were ready. It almost felt like the Skim Man knew what they were planning. His behavior had only gotten worse. Stan had seen him back into someone’s bike, effectively ruining it, and he had cut in line at the cafe. Stan was actually excited to get some revenge on him, it felt like karma.

And spending late nights with Richie had been a plus too, he couldn’t deny it. Richie had attacked planning this with even more enthusiasm than Stan had expected. And it was just them. Stan had mentioned bringing in Bev at one point but Richie shook his head, ‘This is an us thing man, just us’. And Stan couldn’t argue.

Now part one was about to begin. Stan saw the man in line for coffee and gave Richie a quick nod, slipping out of his seat. Richie met him outside a few minutes later, slipping off his apron and hat and stuffing them in his bag. “You’ve got some great hat hair.” Stan said, laughing at the mushroom effect the hat had on him.

“Hey, no need to mock.” Richie ran a hand through his hair, making it worse. Stan laughed again. “Help me then.” Richie said, standing squarely in front of him. When Stan didn’t move Richie huffed and took his hand, putting it in his hair. “Come on dude, you’ve got great hair. Fix mine.”

“You like my hair?” Stan asked, too surprised to move.

Richie nodded under his hand and quirked his eyebrows. “Come on, we don’t have all day. Fix my hair and let’s go.”

Stan nodded, reminding himself that they were about to break the law and that now wasn’t the time for his crush. He fluffed Richie’s hair then withdrew his hand. “Where’s his car?”

Richie grabbed his hand, cupping his within Stan’s. Stan didn’t have time to process the touch before Richie was pulling him along. “Here’s the patented ‘I have a small dick’ car itself.” Richie said, stopping in front of a impeccably maintained cherry red mercedes.

“This is a bad idea.” Stan said, looking at the car. Suddenly he realized he couldn’t do this. They’d get caught for sure. This was an idiotic plan.

Richie was already using the key he made to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat. He poked his head out. “Did you say something?” He grinned at Stan and pointed to the passenger seat. “Come on babe, I’ll take you anywhere.”

“Terrible fucking idea.” Stan said, walking to the passenger seat. Once he was in Richie started the car and carefully pulled out of the parking spot. They weren’t moving it far, just to another lane of the parking lot, far enough that it would confuse the asshole. Stan had refused to let himself look up if that still counted as grand theft auto.

Once they parked Richie jumped out and slid over the hood, opening Stan’s door before he could. “Your door, good sir.” He said, grinning madly. Stan rolled his eyes and got out.

“Part one is complete.” Richie said, locking the car again.

The two hid behind a bush, waiting until Skim Man came out and trying to hide their laughter as he looked frantically for his car. Richie was doubled over by the time he actually found it and Stan had to clap a hand over his mouth, worried he would hear.

“Don’t fucking lick me.” Stan warned but Richie was enjoying his revenge too much to care. He pulled Stan down next to him, whispering about how they were fucking geniuses. Stan laughed too, carried away with Richie’s happiness.

Richie propped himself up on an elbow. “I can’t fucking wait for tomorrow.” He said, leaning slightly over Stan. Stan had to remind himself to breath, Richie was too close, his eyes were too bright. It was all too much, like Richie always was. And Stan liked it. He had always liked it.

“Me too.” Stan nodded. And to his surprise, he was telling the truth.

The next day they went with a classic egging of the car, Stan insisted that they only got the mercedes, not wanting anyone else to suffer. So again Richie moved the car and they set to egging it, Richie ended up crushing several in his hand and smeared the remains on Stan’s face. “It’s a face wash!” He said, grinning and cupping Stan’s frowning face.

“I fucking hate you.” He said. It lot some of it's bite because Richie was squishing his cheeks and making his lips pucker. Stan stopped talking, noticing that Richie’s eyes had fallen to his lips. He flushed under Richie’s hands. He couldn’t speak, even though he wanted to ask desperately what they were doing. What Richie was doing.

Instead Richie was leaning in and Stan’s heart was pounding. But then Stan heard someone coming and panicked, thinking it was the car’s owner.  He quickly pulled Richie behind a building. They both watched as someone else walked out and saw the car smeared with eggs, not really seeming to caring about it.

“That was close.” Stan said, leaning against the building.

“Not close enough.” Richie said. Stan knew he should ask what Richie meant but couldn’t. Instead he trudged back to his dorm and washed off his face.

Part three, the final part, took place a week later. They wanted to wait and have him think it was safe before they struck again.

“Got vaseline for all your lubing needs.” Richie said, leaning against Stan’s doorframe.

“I don’t have any lubing needs.” Stan said, feeling the tips of his ears turn red.

Richie was next to him before Stan knew it. “Are you sure?” Richie asked, breathing in Stan’s ear.

Stan looked at him, intending to scowl but instead seeing that Richie was serious. His eyes scanned Stan’s face, a sure sign of his nervousness. Leave it to Richie to confess his feelings with an innuendo.

“We need to get to the car.” Stan said, avoiding the question in Richie’s eyes.

Richie’s face fell. “Sure.”

It seemed that Stan had answered him without meaning to. Richie turned left, letting Stan catch up with him.  

They smeared vaseline over the windshield, including under the wipers, and the door handles. Stan looked at his hands unhappily. Originally, he wanted to wear gloves but wasn’t prepared for Richie’s comments about no love without a glove.

But he didn’t need to worry. Richie was surprisingly quiet the whole time. When they finished Richie wiped his hands on his pants and turned to Stan. “Are you staying for the final reveal?”

“If you want me to.” Stan was wiping his hands off on the car as much as he could.

Richie shrugged and walked away, leaving Stan again to follow. They waited behind the bushes again, both crouched.

“Richie,” Stan started after a long awkward silence, only to be shushed.

“There he is.” Richie pointed, watching with delight as the man came out to his car and started swearing animatedly. Richie let out a loud guafaw and the man’s head whipped to them.

Stan was already on his feet and pulling Richie with him before the man took five steps. He had an excellent flight or fight response. It was always flight, usually before he could even register what was happening. Stan just ran, pure fear making his feet move. He didn’t want to get caught. He didn’t want Richie to get fired. Richie needed the cafe job. Stan needed Richie. These thoughts kept running through Stan’s head as they escaped.

They ran for a while until they could finally duck into a building, both panting.

They were silent except for their loud breathing. “I think it’s safe.” Richie finally said and Stan realized he was still holding Richie’s hand. “We can leave.”

“No.” Stan said, turning to Richie so he was pushed against the wall, trapped by Stan’s body.

“No?” Richie asked, trying for amused but ending up closer to disappointed.

“I want to finish what we started earlier.”

“Vaseline?”

“Lube.” Stan said, feeling his ears go pink again but pushing through the awkwardness. He enjoyed the shock in Richie’s face for a minute before he kissed him, nearly missing with his enthusiasm.

Luckily Richie corrected for them, connecting their lips perfectly. Stan pulled back, checking Richie’s reaction.

“  _That_ conversation.” Richie said, grinning broadly. “I liked that conversation.” Richie said, kissing him again. Stan ignored the vaseline on Richie’s hands as they snaked around to his back, pulling him closer. And Richie didn’t seem to mind when Stan’s hands wound in his hair, tugging his lips up slightly.


	5. “Pretending to be your boyfriend is the easiest thing i’ve ever had to do.” Benverly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Pretending to be your boyfriend is the easiest thing i’ve ever had to do.”  
> Benverly   
> Rated F for fluff

“My family might like you more than me.” Bev said with a laugh as she fell onto her bed. “Did you see Samantha looking at you during dinner? She either wants to feed you or have your babies, I’m not sure which.”

Ben fell next to her on the bed, groaning.  “At this point, I might pick the babies. I can’t eat anymore.”

She propped herself up on her elbow and jokingly patted his stomach. “Feeling too well fed?” He laughed, her warm hand tickling him slightly.

“You warned me about the cousins and questions, not about all the food.” He said, turning to her and smiling. He resisted the urge to tuck a fallen strand of purple hair behind her ear. Bev had dyed her short pixie cut a dark purple right before the trip, trying to find any way to irritate her family.

It was the first annual Marsh family reunion. Bev hadn’t wanted to go- she didn’t exactly have pleasant memories of the Marsh side of her family- but her aunt had insisted, saying she was going and there was no way a 17 year old could stay at the house alone for a long weekend, and also refusing to let her stay with any of the other losers, because, as she had said in a hushed voice, they were ‘boys with  _hormones’_. As if hormones were some sort of strange, otherworldly thing that Bev needed protection against.

All this had lead to the losers had all been sitting together in Bill’s basement, talking about upcoming Bev’s trip. “They’re all going to ask me why I’m single.” She said, taking a long hit off the joint that Richie had brought before handing it to Mike. “All of my cousins have these cute promposal stories or some shit and then there’s me- the disaster.”

“But a cute disaster.” Richie said, ruffling her hair. “Our disaster.”

She scrunched her nose. “Not sure that’s better. My aunt is half convinced that you guys are all degenerate gays.” Bev’s aunt, Jeanne, had moved back to Derry to let her finish high school with her friends. All the losers felt in her debt, even if she did have strict rules for Bev.

Richie barked out a laugh. “Well, she’s half right.”

She laughed, leaning against Mike.  “I wish I could just bring you guys. It’d be way more fun that way.”

“So bring us!” Richie exclaimed, looking at the others excitedly. “It’ll be great. We’ll parade around in banana hammocks and give your dear old granny a heart attack.”

She shook her head. “Only significant others allowed, no friends. It’s a stupid rule.” She sighed. “Once again, punished for being a strong independent woman.”

“Who don’t need no man!” Eddie finished and everyone started laughing.

The conversation moved on to other things but later, when Ben was walking Bev home she had turned to him with a grin he recognized instantly. It was her prank grin, the one she got when she and Richie were thinking about stealing a tractor or adding colored water to the school’s sprinklers. It rarely lead to good things and occasionally lead to running from the cops.

She grabbed Ben’s hand. “I’ve got a  _great_ idea.”

He frowned slightly. “Last time you said that I lost an eyebrow.”

She slapped his shoulder lightly. “It grew back! Besides, can you honestly tell me it wasn’t worth it!”

He smiled at her, he couldn’t help it. Everything with Bev was worth it. Ben had been harboring a crush on her for years, since she moved to town. He had watched her fumble through multiple failed relationships and had always been there to help her after. She was the person he called first with any news, good or bad, and he was the one she called late at night and they’d talk about the mysteries of the universe- and occasionally soup. He knew he was only hurting himself, Bev had never acted any differently towards him than any other loser, but he couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to date other people. He had a girlfriend for nearly two months sophomore year but had broken it off, feeling guilty that he couldn’t kiss her without thinking of Bev.

So now he just hoped that eventually his feelings would disappear. Until then, he tried to be the best friend he could.

“What’s your idea Bev?” He asked, smiling at her excitement.

“You come with me!” She said, jumping up and down happily.

“Where?” He asked, confused.

“To the family reunion!”

“You said only significant others can go.” He reminded her, not wanting to stomp out her obvious joy but not understanding how it would be possible.

“Exactly! You’ll be my boyfriend. Jeanne always talks about how we act like we’re dating anyway. She won't even bat an eye.”

He shook his head. Leave it to Bev to say something she meant as sweet but that made his stomach knot painfully. “Ask one of the others.”

She shook her head now. “No, listen, I thought about this. Bill won’t work because he’s an ex, it’d be weird. Eddie is clearly too gay. Richie would embarrass me. Stan would refuse. And Mike is a terrible actor- remember when we had to do a scene in english? He couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag. Heretofore- you!” She said, making excited jazz hands at him.

“Happy to be your last choice.” He said, smiling.

“No! No, you’re my first choice. But you also happen to be my only one.” She grinned again. “Say you’ll come, please please please? I need someone there to roll my eyes at and to discuss all of the hidden meanings in my grandma’s speeches.”

Ben hesitated again and she put her hands together in a prayer motion. “I’m not above begging here Ben.” She said. He paused again and she waved her clasped hands at him until he relented.

“Okay!” He was laughing at her theatrics. “Fine! I’ll go.” She squealed and leapt into his arms, squeezing him. “Great! Ben, you won’t regret it. I’ll fill you in on the whole family before we go. Flashcards and everything. It’ll be awesome!”

Awesome was not the word Ben would have used. Torturous, maybe, or hell-like. But he had nodded along as Bev started to explain her family and their quirks. He had half expected her aunt to say no but instead she had been thrilled to hear that they were finally dating and insisted he come.

It had all lead to this, night three of the reunion. They were leaving tomorrow, after a big pancake breakfast. Bev’s family had rented out a large house in a tourist-y town and had been enjoying all the niche museums and ghost tours that the town offered. Ben had enjoyed it, Bev’s family was nice, if a bit intense. All of them wanted to know where ‘she had been hiding him’ as they grinned approvingly at him. Several had pinched his cheeks, much to his chagrin and Bev’s obvious delight.

Now, Bev was supposed to be changing before they went to the bonfire. She had dragged Ben with her, wanting to talk about how one of her cousins had spent dinner explaining exactly why Trump was right about ‘those people’. Ben wasn’t supposed to be in the room with Bev, especially with the door closed. Her family had strict rules about non-married people. Ben was in a room with several of Bev’s male cousins and couples got glared at if they did much more than hand holding in front of the family. It had spared Ben the embarrassment of having to do anything more with Bev to convince them they were a couple.

This week had already been hard enough for Ben, with Bev constantly next to him and whispering in his ear. It was his own personal Heaven and Hell.

She turned to him, her face changing to a serious expression. “Thank you again Ben, you saved me from a weekend of boredom. I’m so glad you came.”

“Pretending to be your boyfriend is the easiest thing i’ve ever had to do.” His voice was softer than he meant it to be and, to his immediate horror, Bev seemed to know the meaning behind what he said.

“That’s not-” He started, right as Bev said, “Ben-” And then door swung open, with one of the aunts on the other side.

“You know the rules!” She chided. “No closed doors until wedding bells ring.” She smiled and went on her way, giving Ben time to scramble away from Bev.

“I’ll go, let you change.” He said, trying to back out of the room but Bev had already stood and shut the door again, effectively trapping him between her and the door.

“Ben, what did you mean?” She asked.

He felt his face turn bright red. “N-nothing.” He stammered out. “Not, anything, like what you’re thinking.” He finally got out.

She sucked her top lip into her mouth, a sign she was nervous. “What if I want it to be what I’m thinking?”

“What-what are you thinking?” He asked, unable to process what was happening.

“This.” She said, leaning in and kissing him firmly.

She moved back, looking up at him and he nodded. “I like that.” His brain hadn’t quite caught up with what had happened.

Luckily she laughed. “Ben, did you really think I asked you as a last option? I’ve liked you for,” she blew her lips out, “years.”

He felt his mouth drop open and quickly closed it. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He smiled. “Fair. Fine, fine.” He nodded slowly, looking down at Bev. “You really like me?”

She put her arms around his neck. “I really really like you.”

He put his hands on her hips, his brain finally catching up with what was happening and starting to believe it was real. “I really really like you too.”

She laughed. “Good. So then Ben, what do you say we make this fake relationship real?”

“I’d like nothing more.” He answered, leaning down and kissing her again.


	6. "Stop looking at me like that!" and "Friends don't do this kind of shit!" Hanzier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stop looking at me like that!" and "Friends don't do this kind of shit!"  
> Hanzier   
> Rated T

“Mike, come over here,” Richie said, grabbing his friend’s hand and covertly leading him away from the party, which was celebrating Ben and Bev’s engagement.

“Richie, what are you doing? I have to make a speech in ten minutes- and so do you!” Mike protested, looking around to see if anyone noticed them leaving. No one seemed to and he let Richie lead him behind a tree, Richie’s hands immediately on Mike’s chest, running his fingertips over him.

“I know.” Richie said, his lips nibbling on Mike’s neck. “But you look so fucking good. All night, I’ve been staring at you in that damn shirt. So let me enjoy this for five minutes.”

Any other protests that Mike had died as Richie’s lips found a tender spot and sucked gently. He bit back a groan as his hands found Richie’s hips. He had missed Richie the last few days. Since Ben and Bev had gotten engaged three weeks ago it had been non-stop activity, all the losers going to several engagement parties and helping to plan the wedding. Bev was insisting on a short engagement so she was already looking at venues and dresses, dragging all the losers with her whether they wanted to or not.

It hadn’t left much time for this- whatever ‘this’ was. It had started about four months ago, when a drunk Richie had kissed an even drunker Mike in the club. He had pulled back, ready to apologize but Mike had dove in, kissing him hard and pulling him to the dance floor. Nothing else had happened that night but they had talked about it in the morning, both  sure they had ruined their friendship with the other but, after a careful conversation, they had decided to be friends with benefits. Between getting his BLS and working full time Mike didn’t have the time or energy for a real relationship. And Richie didn’t have the patience for one. This felt like a good situation for both of them.

Even tonight, when they were supposed to be celebrating their friends, Mike had been able to stop thinking about Richie. He knew they needed to get back but Richie’s hands were running over his chest and Mike’s hands had moved to his hair and he couldn’t make himself care that people would notice they were gone soon.

At least, until he heard an announcement from one of Bev’s bridesmaids. “We’d like to get all of Bev’s childhood friends up here for speeches!”

“Richie,” Mike said, trying to get his attention.

But Richie just kept mouthing at his neck, unconcerned with the rest of the world.

“Richie!” He said, a little harsher.

“Oh yea, Mikey, say my name, just like that.” Richie teased, his hands sliding lower until they were on his belt.

Mike grabbed his wrists, stopping him and making a small whine escape from Richie. “We need to go up there.” Mike said firmly, then added, “We can continue this later.”

Richie nodded, smirking, “I like the sound of that.”

Mike pulled Richie to the stage before he could distract him again. All the losers delivered their speeches and Mike managed not to stare too long at Richie’s hands as they wrapped around the mic. He’d always admired Richie’s hands, his long nimble fingers were so different than Mike’s squared ones.

As Mike delivered his speech he felt Richie’s eyes on him, traveling slowly over Mike in a very distracting way. He just hoped that no one else noticed Richie’s eyes or his occasional stumble.

Of course, he had no such luck. Stan, who had always been too observant for his own good, stopped Mike as he was leaving the party. Richie was meeting him at his apartment and, after the heated looks they’d been giving each other all night, he was eager to get to him.

“What’s up with you and Richie?” Stan asked, stopped Mike before he crawled into his car.

Mike felt himself go red and took a breath before turning to Stan, hoping he sounded natural. “What do you mean? Nothing.”

Mike knew that he wasn’t buying it. He had his hands on his hips and one eyebrow arched. “You know exactly what I mean. You two have been trading bedroom eyes all damn night.”

“Bedroom eyes?” Mike said, smiling.

Stan waved his joke away. “You know what I mean. Is something going on between you two?”

Mike shrugged, trying to think of something Stan would believe. “Richie came over, whining about wanting some girl’s attention so he asked me to flirt with him. Because, you know, Richie.” He said it as nonchalantly as he could, hoping that Stan would buy it.

It worked. Stan nodded slowly. “Okay, well, see you tomorrow.” They were looking at flower arrangements with the happy couple. Everyone was dreading it except Ben and Mike.

Mike waved him goodbye and drove to his place. Richie was already waiting outside his apartment door, leaning against the wall. “What took you so long?” Richie asked, pulling Mike in for a deep kiss.

Which Mike broke off. “Stan stopped me, asking about our ‘bedroom eyes’.” He put the words in quotes and Richie chuckled.

“Did he feel our steam heat?” Richie asked, his hands still running over Mike as he unlocked the door. “It is hard to deny the animal magnetism between us.”

“No, he saw you giving me sultry looks all night.” Mike pushed open his door and Richie followed him in.

“He’s just jealous it's not him getting dicked down by either of us.” Richie said, taking his shoes off.

“They’re catching on Richie.” Mike wanted to stop and have a conversation but Richie was already starting to unbutton Mike’s shirt. “You’ve got to  **stop looking at me like that**  when we’re around our friends!"

“Only Stan noticed, and you know he won’t say anything.” Richie said, undeterred by Mike’s tone. He laid a careful kiss behind Mike’s ear, which he knew made Mike melt.

“Stop!” Mike said, his hands covering Richie’s. This finally made Richie pause and look at Mike.

“Mike, it’s fine. We’re just friends fucking around.”

Mike shook his head, now full on annoyed.  **"Friends don't do this kind of shit!”**  He looked down at their hands, his larger ones over Richie’s long ones. “They don’t make out in dark corners, they don’t stare at the other person whenever they laugh, they don’t fuck three times a week!”

“Four on good ones.” Richie joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It only made Mike angrier. “Fuck you Richie, I’m trying to talk about something and you’re cracking jokes. Just-” He exhaled. “Go. Just go.”

Richie’s face fell as he realized that Mike was actually upset. “Hey, no, come on. Let’s talk.”

Mike shook his head. “No, I don’t want to talk Richie, there’s nothing to talk about. I’ll see you tomorrow when we pick out flowers.”

Richie seemed like he was going to say more but Mike shook his head and, finally, Richie left. Mike tried to do some of his homework but couldn’t focus, deciding to go to bed instead.

The next day Mike showed up slightly late to the flower appointment, hoping to avoid any small talk with the others. It didn’t matter, Richie wasn’t there.

“Where’s Richie?” He asked as an employee started taking out books and talking bouquets.

Eddie shrugged. “Said he felt sick or something. Probably just didn’t want to come.”

Mike wanted to ask more but Ben was calling him over, asking about buttoneirs. Mike let himself get lost in wedding planning, watching how excited his friends were to celebrate their upcoming nuptials.

He was only a little jealous. Jealous because he had always wanted to settle down, to get a dog, buy a house. But, ironically, Richie was his longest relationship in years.

Richie, who, when they first met, Mike had thought for sure he was going to want to strangle him and his trashmouth constantly. And he wasn't entirely wrong. There were times when Richie drove him up the wall. But as they got older Richie grew up, he still said whatever he was thinking but he was also insightful and damn smart.

And he was one of the most caring people Mike had ever met. He didn’t seem like he but he was surprisingly good at reading people, he seemed to know exactly what friends needed. He’d show up to movie nights with Bev’s favorite snack, or a new action movie that Bill had mentioned months ago. For how ditzy he came off he was a good friend.

Mike had enjoyed spending more time with just Richie in the past few years, once they graduated college and other people split into couples, he and Richie were left alone together. They’d play video games together, or go see movies. To anyone else, it probably seemed like they were a couple even before they started hooking up.

The more Mike thought about it the more he wondered why he thought hooking up with Richie was a good idea. There was no way that this wouldn’t change things. Eventually, one of them would end up dating someone for real and they’d have to break it off. Mike’s stomach churned unhappily at the thought of Richie kissing someone else.

Mike came to an abrupt realization that he didn’t want Richie’s lips on anyone else. He didn’t want Richie’s hands undoing someone else’s buttons or for him to go see bad horror movies on with a date. He felt intense jealousy at this imaginary person, hating them already.

“Ah, fuck.” Mike said under his breath, causing Eddie’s head to whip to him. He shook his head. “Left the oven on, I’ve got to go.” He said waving a quick goodbye and making his exit.

He drove back to his apartment, thinking over his newly realized feelings for one of his best friends and what he was going to do about them.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before. They spent more time together then Mike spent with anyone else. And it wasn’t like they just had sex, they’d go see plays that Mike was excited about, or comedians Richie liked. He had even brought Richie to an office holiday party, both enjoying jokingly calling each other ‘boyfriend’ all night.

Mike knew what he had to do. He had to break things off with Richie and try to get over these feelings. Sure, it would make things weird for a while but in the long run it was the better decision. It would stop Mike from pretending that this could ever be more than what it was. He resolved to call Richie that afternoon as he walked up the steps to his apartment.

He was feeling sure about his decision until he saw Richie, again leaning against the wall outside his door. Mike instantly knew that he wanted to smoke. His hand was twitching and he kept reaching for his breast pocket, where he had kept his cigarettes until he quit a year ago.

“Deju vu.” Mike said, walking up to his door. “Thought you were sick.”

Richie shrugged and turned towards Mike. He saw that Richie was holding a bouquet that had seen better times. It looked it had been shaken a few times and all the flowers were drooping. Richie followed Mike’s eyes to it and gave an embarrassed shrug. “It looked better an hour ago.”

Mike went into his apartment and Richie followed. He took the flowers from Richie, smiling despite himself. “I’m sure they’ll perk right up in some water.” He couldn’t stop himself from smelling the flowers. Richie had brought him his favorite, sunflowers.

“Just like my dick.” Richie said, then he winced. “Sorry, it just comes out.”

Mike smiled at him. “After 15 odd years I’m used to it.” He put them in a vase and added water before turning to Richie. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about- this, us - and,” He started.

“Wait,” Richie interrupted, holding a up a hand. “I’ve got a whole speech prepared. Let me say my shit first?”  Mike nodded, knowing it was unlikely to change his mind. He was already having to focus, to not reach out and touch Richie’s soft flannel, to try to comfort him. He was suddenly shocked that he had denied his feelings for so long.

Richie took a deep breath and Mike knew he was nervous. He had grabbed a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and was trying to smooth it out while he read from it. “Mike, you know I’m shit at stuff like this. I’m no good at relationships with anyone outside the losers.” He let out a dry laugh. “Which makes this so much harder. Because when this thing between us started I was sure that I could control my feelings.” He paused, trying to read a word. “I wasn’t going to ruin a good thing by being the one to catch feelings. But, like most things in my life, I fucked that up.” He looked at Mike with a little shrug and Mike felt his mouth go dry. Was Richie saying what he thought he was?

“I like you Mike. More than I’ve ever liked anyone, honestly. I think about you all the fucking time when we’re not together- you’re running on a loop in my head. It’s kinda pitiful, honestly. But I can’t stop. I keep thinking about how I want to take you out on real dates, and hold your hand. All this soft shit. I know I’m ruining our arrangement and probably our friendship by catching these stupid feelings but- fuck man, I can’t help it. I can’t-”

Mike cut Richie off by grabbing the back of his head and pulling him into a hard kiss. Richie was surprised then kissed Mike back, relaxing under his touch.

“Not that I’m complaining but what the hell was that?” Richie asked as Mike pulled back.

“You’ve always talked too much.” Mike said, smiling. “I guess I ruined this too, by catching some feelings.”

Richie’s face lit up. “You’re sure? It’s not just a pity kiss?”

“No, you dumbass.”Mike said, leaning his forehead against Richie’s.

Richie laughed. “Hey, you can’t call me names. My boyfriend is a muscley black guy, he’ll kick your ass.”

“Is that your way of asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“Well, that and the flowers.” Richie said, grabbing Mike’s free hand and threading their fingers together. Both glanced down at them, smiling. “Is it a yes?”

Mike nodded, “Absolutely.”


	7. “i’m sorry.. did i make this weird?” Stozier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “i’m sorry.. did i make this weird?”  
> Stozier  
> Rated T   
> Warnings: Drinking? Not underaged though. Angst

_“_ _Rockin' robin, rock rock Rockin' robin'”_ Stan’s phone blasted out. He rolled over, looking first at the clock- just past 3 am- then at his phone- which had been ringing persistently for the last ten minutes. It wasn’t a number he recognized but he picked it up anyway, ready to tell off whoever was on the other end but before he could say anything a familiar voice spoke.

“Stannnnyyy, my booyyyyy,”

“Richie.” Stan said, sitting up. “Why the hell are you calling me?” He was worried for a minute, that Richie was in trouble or needed help. Old habits died hard, even if Richie wasn’t his problem anymore.

“I need a riiidddeee.” Richie sang into the phone.

“Call an uber.”

“Can’t. My, uh, calling thing…left it at home.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your phone. Call a cab then.”

“Can’t that either. That’s with the… other thing. Just brought me cash and I spent all of that.” Richie said, trying for an Irish accent and failing. “So I need a ridddeeee.”

“Call Bill.”

“See, thing is I don’t know his number. But I know yours Stanny boy. It’s memorized. In my head.”

Stan could practically see Richie tapping his temple as he spoke. He sighed. As much as he wanted to just hang up, he couldn’t leave this dumbass alone. Stan knew he’d get kidnapped into white slavery or something. “Fine, fine, where are you?”

Richie gave him the name of some bar and Stan threw on a coat and shoes and went to pick up his very drunk, very ex boyfriend. He tried not to think about the fact that after nearly 6 months of being apart Richie still had his number memorized. He was nearly the definition of an idiot savant, he couldn’t remember his own address but he’d probably remember Stan’s number on his deathbed.

It was easy to find Richie. He was slumped on the ground outside some seedy bar. Stan drove up and threw open his passenger door. “Get in.” He ordered.

Richie stumbled to his feet, walking slowly to Stan’s door before falling into the seat. “Are you going to vomit?” He asked as Richie closed the door and buckled up. He smelled awful, like cigarettes and cheap vodka. But he was dressed nice, in a button up and dark pants. Stan guessed that he had started the night somewhere else and ended here.

“Nooopppeeee. I took the liberty of doing that outside. Yyyyyou’re welcome.” His words were thick and slurred, and he was speaking slowly, probably trying to seem less drunk than he was. Richie gave him a dopey grin and Stan turned his attention back to the road, beginning to drive. He was trying to ignore Richie, which was, of course, impossible.

“Staniel, my knight in shining curls, thank you for the rescue.  I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t have to. I know that I broke your rules about this. Me? Us?” Richie rambled on. “But rules are stupid and made to be broken. Bro-ken. Broken.” He giggled. “What a dumb word. We’re broken up and I’ve broken the rules. Broooo-ken.”

Stan listened to him and made a quick decision, turning towards his apartment instead of Richie’s. It had been a long time since he had seen Richie like this- Stan stopped himself from thinking about the last time - and he was worried that if he dropped Richie off he’d end up choking on his tongue or something equally idiotic. As loathe as he was to admit it, he needed to be Richie’s friend tonight and put aside his feelings.

Richie had stopped his drunk speech and was looking at Stan. “  **I’m sorry, did I make this weird?”**

Stan scoffed. “You make  _everything_ weird Richie.”

Richie let out a choked laugh. “You really know how to butter someone up.” Richie tipped his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. “Really Staniel, I know you missed me.” Stan didn't answer.

He was silent until Stan pulled into his parking spot, Richie woke up with a start as the car stopped. “What- why are we here?”

“Because your dumbass decided to get drunk as a skunk and I can’t leave you alone.” Stan said, watching Richie fumble with the seat belt latch. After a minute he reached over and undid the button for him, their hands brushing as he did so. He ignored the jolt that went through him, instead getting out of the car and waiting for Richie to do the same.

Richie poured out, tripping over his feet as he did so.  “Can you make it up the stairs?” Stan lived on the third floor with no elevator.

Richie hand a hand through his hair, looking at the building. “Uh, yea. Probably. Totally. Maybe?”

Stan closed his eyes and then made another decision he didn’t like, putting an arm around Richie, who looked at him, surprised. “I’ll help you up.” He didn’t want to be waiting for Richie to crawl up the stairs.

“Well then chip chop ol’ chap! Let’s get this party started!” Richie said, swinging an arm over Stan, who ignored the abrupt shift in references from Richie.

They started to the building, Richie stumbling constantly and being loud, despite Stan constantly telling him to shut up.

By the time they got to Stan’s apartment he was fed up. This was a solid reminder of why they had broken up- Richie was too much for Stan, he was too loud, too in your face, too everything. He filled every room he entered, demanding that attention be paid to him while Stan preferred to stay in a corner and observe. They were incompatible.

But damned if they didn’t try. They had dated nearly two years, fighting off and on the whole time. Richie wanted to go to parties, to meet new people, and Stan didn’t. He hated feeling surrounded by people and the loss of control he felt when drinking. Stan was a contained person while Richie overfollowed.

Even knowing that didn’t kill Stan’s feelings as much as they should, especially as Richie leaned against him, arm around his waist. Stan was reminded how much he liked Richie’s hands on him, and them touching. It had always been a comfort, Richie was one of the few people that Stan didn’t mind having touch him.

He ignored that memory as Richie stumbled to Stan’s couch. Stan had to resist the urge to go over to him, to offer help for getting his shoes off.

Turning away from a drunk Richie who couldn’t remember how to unlace his shoes Stan got him water, which Richie gratefully gulped down. “Thanks Staniel, you’ve always been a great friend.” He said, peering up at Stan.

**“Just friends? Bullshit!”**  Stan said, under his breath, expecting Richie to not hear him.

But somehow being drunk had enhanced his hearing and he cocked his head, looking at Stan with surprisingly sober eyes. “You’re right Stan, we’re not friends.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stan asked, annoyed.

Richie looked up at him for a minute then shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No. Tell me what you meant.” Stan said, crossing his arms and staring Richie down. “You owe me that after dragging me out of bed at 3am to save your drunk ass.”

Richie sighed, cradling his head. His voice was muffled but Stan heard him perfectly. “We’re not friends. You know that. We haven’t talked since we broke up. You try to get out of going to any event I’m at and, if we do end up at the same thing, you avoid me. Tell me, does it sound like we’re friends?” Richie’s voice was sad, pained, and it only annoyed Stan more.

Stan set his jaw, glaring at him. “How exactly am I supposed to act? Like nothing happened? Like everything is fine?”

Richie’s head shot up. “You weren’t supposed to cut me out!” He practically shouted. Then, quieter, “I didn’t think you would do that, not to me.” His eyes were the wide puppy dog ones that Stan had always loved, but now they were full of hurt.

Stan’s next sentence came out strangled. “I don’t know what else to do Richie.” He confessed. “I can’t be around you. It hurts too much.” They had never really talked after the break up. Stan had made the unilateral decision that it was easier that way, if they didn’t see each other. That way Richie couldn’t look at him like this, and Stan couldn’t fall back into his arms.

Richie looked up at him, his eyes bright and hopeful. “So take me back Stan. I miss you. I miss us.”

Stan let out something between a cry and a choked laugh. This is exactly what he had been worried about. “Richie, I can’t. Nothing has changed. We’d just hurt each other again.” Even as he said it part of him wanted to agree, to take Richie back and into his arms.

Richie stood and grabbed Stan’s hands. “I’ve changed, I swear. Stan-”

But Stan held up a hand, shaking his head. “We can’t talk about this. Not now. Just, go to sleep.” Stan was tired and he didn’t want to talk about this, well, ever, but really not tonight. Not when he didn’t know if Richie would remember- or if he really meant his words.

Richie fell back onto the couch, nodding, and Stan left. He changed into his pajamas and laid in his bed, thinking about Richie, about them.

There had been a lot that Stan had loved about being with Richie. That was why they had been together for so long. The two were opposed in many ways, Stan was quiet and reserved where Richie was loud and brash. It had been part of why they worked.

And also why they eventually didn’t. Part of it was the parties, Richie wanting to go out and being with people and Stan wanted to curl up with a movie. But they were also different people. Richie wanted fame and fortune, he wanted people to know who he was so much it almost hurt. Stan knew it came from his fear of being forgotten. It was like Richie was worried if he didn’t talk that people would forget his existed.

And Stan had been in love with the quiet version of Richie, the one that rarely came out. He had stayed for that Richie, the one who made them pancakes on Sundays and who read comics out loud to him.

Stan still missed that Richie but nights like tonight reminded him which Richie showed up more.

He fell asleep thinking about pancakes and Richie.

It was only a little surprising to wake up to the smell of breakfast wafting to him. He went to his kitchen, where Richie was flipping french toast. He was honestly impressed that Richie was standing, after last night.

He must have heard Stan’s approach because he turned to him, embarrassed. “You didn’t have stuff for pancakes Stanny.” Stan didn’t say anything and Richie continued. “I wanted to apologize, for last night. I shouldn’t have called you. It wasn’t- I know we’re not together. And It’s been a while since I acted like that but I was celebrating a new job and, well, it got out of hand. But it’s not your problem. I’m not your problem. Let me make these and then I’ll leave.”

“New job?” He asked, feeling surprisingly disappointed that Richie hadn’t told him. But, like he had said, they weren’t exactly talking anymore.

Richie nodded, flipping some bread in the egg mix. “I’ll be teaching at a local college. Can you believe it? They’re trusting me to mold young minds.” He said with a wiry smile.

“What about the radio station?” Stan asked as Richie handed him some coffee. He took a sip. It was perfect - no cream and a little sugar.

Richie shrugged. “I didn’t belong there anymore. I wanted something quieter. And I’m excited to teach, it’ll be fun.”

“Well, congratulations.” Stan said, still watching Richie. The scene reminded him of so many mornings that they had shared, ones that started like this and ended with them in the bedroom until noon.

“Thanks.” Richie was making them both a plate of food. “But still, I shouldn’t have called you. It wasn’t-” He sighed, handing Stan a plate. “I know I crossed a line.”

Stan shook his head, accepting the plate. “I’m glad you did.” And he was. “Better me than trying to get home on your own. Though I’m surprised you’re moving right now.”

Richie smiled at him. “Think I puked most of it up last night.”

They took their plates and coffee to Stan’s small table, where Richie had already put syrup and butter.

They caught up, quietly and awkwardly. Stan was surprised how much he had missed from Richie’s life. Richie had made a lot of changes, for the better, in the last few months.  It made ache spread in his chest to know how far apart they had fallen.

And he couldn’t ignore how his heart still sped up when their hands accidentally brushed, or how he still smiled whenever Richie laughed. He was still as drawn to Richie as always.

“I wanted to say, thank you.” Richie said as they finished their food. “For breaking up with me.” Stan arched and eyebrow and he continued. “It made me see that I had to grow up. It felt like, for a while, as long as you were there I couldn’t be doing too poorly. But then, you weren’t, and I had some shit to figure out. And I finally figured out what I wanted and made those changes.”

“For me?” Stan asked.

Richie shook his head. “I mean, maybe at the start it was, to get you back. But then it was for me. I wanted to be happy, for me.”

Stan gave him a small smile. “Good.” He paused, looking at Richie. Their hands rested on the table, inches apart. “Are you? Happy?”

Richie puffed out his cheeks then laughed. “Most days. But others,” He gave Stan a slow look. “I still miss you Stan. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop.”

“Richie-” Stan started but this time it was Richie who held up a hand.

“No, I know, we’re not together. But hell, I’ve been honest about everything else. Might as well tell you the truth there.”

Stan moved quickly, standing up and over Richie. He leaned down and kissed him, hard, his hands on Richie’s shoulders, gripping him tight.

Stan moved back and Richie looked up at him, his eyes sad. “Don’t do this to me Stan. I can’t-”

Stan cut him off again with another bruising kiss, this time Richie’s hands went to Stan’s back, pulling Stan onto his lap awkwardly, so he was straddling one of Richie’s legs. Stan’s tongue swept Richie’s lips and Richie parted them, letting him guide the kiss.

After a minute he pulled back, both breathing heavy. “I want this, I missed you Richie. So much.” Stan admitted it to himself as much as he did Richie. “I can’t promise we won’t still fight but, I want to try this again.”

“You only want me because I’m a sexy college professor now.” He joked and Stan nodded.

“Yes. You know how sweater vests turn me on.”

“I’ll buy a two dozen.” Richie said, burying his head in Stan’s shoulder. “You really want me back?”

“Only if you want me.” Stan told him.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted Stan.” Richie told him, kissing him again.


	8. The broken bike - Kasplon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: all i want is a story about eddie lying about his bike being broken and not being able to fix it so mike rides him around in his lil bike basket until mike finds out it was just a ploy for eddie to get to spend more time with him and he thinks it’s real cute and it’s super fluffy and nice
> 
> So its Kasplon, fyi

“Eddie! Come down!” Mike called from the street under the smaller boy’s window. Mike was with Bill and Richie, waiting for Eddie so they could all bike to the quarry.

Eddie’s window opened and his head popped out. Mike felt himself smile at Eddie’s soft blond curls and the slight pout on his lips. He was always impressed at how put together Eddie looked, even though others may say that he was a bit too particular about it.

“You’re lucky my mom is at work! Otherwise she’d be pissed that you’re yelling like hooligans.” Eddie shouted down to them.

“Your mom is too tired after all the good times I showed her last night.” Richie replied. “Now, get your ass down here. The others are waiting.”

Eddie shook his head. “I still can’t, my bike is still busted. I think my mom is secretly thrilled about it, she doesn’t seem to care about fixing it.” The Bower’s gang had found Eddie’s bike chained up outside the arcade and had taken it upon themselves to break it as best they could. That was nearly three weeks ago and Sonia showed no signs of getting it fixed.

“You can ride on silver.” Bill offered.

Eddie furrowed his brow and shook his head again. “No fucking way, you take corners too fast.”

“Ride with me.” Mike offered, pointing to his basket. “We know you fit.” Mike had a large basket for meat deliveries and Eddie liked to crawl into it and sit when they were waiting for everyone after school.

Eddie looked from Mike to his basket then nodded. “Give me five minutes.”

He appeared a few minutes later in shorts and a pale pink button up. He looks adorable, Mike thought. The thought should have surprised him more but thoughts like this had been coming to Mike’s mind more often. How soft Eddie’s hair looked, how much he liked Eddie’s smile, how passionate Eddie was. Mike couldn’t seem to stop thinking about any of it.

He held his bike steady as Eddie crawled into the basket, his legs hanging out. “Go slow.” He warned and Mike nodded.

“I’ve got you Eddie, don’t worry.”

“I never do.” Eddie said, leaning back against the basket.  He knew that Mike was telling the truth, he’d always watch over Eddie. He felt safe with Mike, protected in his strong arms and sure grin.

“Let’s fucking go!” Richie said, kicking off and racing ahead with Bill. Mike and Eddie had to go slower, which neither minded. They talked about their weekend plans, Eddie had to visit his aunts tomorrow and he was upset about it, talking about how they pinched his cheeks and asked him when he would hit a growth spurt. Mike told him about the new calf that had been born, mentioning that Eddie should come out to see it. Eddie didn’t love the farm- too dirty for him- but he did love the newborn animals, and helping to feed them, laughing as their tongues licked the bottles.

They reached the others sooner than Mike wanted, had had been enjoying talking to Eddie alone, listening to his laugh and watching his nose crinkle when he talked about his family. As soon as they stopped Stan talked over and started talking to Eddie about history class and Ben was asking Mike if he finished the next book in a series they were reading.

Mike spent the afternoon swimming and talking to his friends but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t always half paying attention to Eddie. Especially when Eddie started yelling at Richie to use sunscreen. His hands were on his hips as he lectured Richie about cancer and melanoma. It was cute, how firey Eddie got about it, how passionate he was and Mike watched as he squirted sunscreen on his hands, feeling something furl in his stomach as Eddie touched Richie’s arms. Eddie and Richie were close, Mike knew that, but it didn’t stop him from wanting grab Eddie’s hands and say that Stan could handle that.

As day turned into evening everyone started to leave, going home for dinner. “Do you want another ride?” Mike asked when Eddie didn’t bring it up.

“It’s really out of the way for you.” Eddie said, grabbing some trash that Richie had left and shoving it in his fanny pack.

“I don’t mind.” He replied honestly.

Eddie brightened, “Then I’d love it.” They walked over to Mike’s bike and Eddie started telling Mike about his summer plans to get a job. He wanted to start saving money for college, knowing that his mom wouldn’t help. Watching Eddie’s eyes light up as he explained his future plans made Mike’s heart swell. He seemed so free and happy. Mike wanted to bottle that expression and save it.

“Thanks for the ride, hopefully my bike will be fixed soon.” Eddie said as they stopped a block away from Eddie’s house, trying to avoid Sonia’s judging eyes. Mike pulled over and helped Eddie out, his hands lingering on Eddie’s sides for a moment.

“Consider me your rideshare for the summer.” Mike told him as he stepped back.

“But if you’re my rideshare I need to pay you, or something.”

Mike shrugged, “We’ll figure something out.” He couldn’t tell Eddie that spending time with him was more than enough of a payment.

School ended and summer started and Eddie’s bike was still broken. Sonia seemed to have no motivation to fix it so it became a regular event for Mike to show up at Eddie’s and give him a ride. He relished the time and loved how Eddie looked in his basket, animatedly talking to Mike about whatever came to mind. When Eddie got a job at the supermarket Mike saw him less and appreciated their time together more. Whenever Mike helped Eddie out of the basket they’d share a quiet moment, Mike’s hands on Eddie’s waist and Eddie’s on his forearms, until Eddie mentioned paying him back and Mike again brushed it off.

This continued until a random day in early August. Mike was riding to Eddie’s, bringing him a fresh muffin that his mom had baked. She had been teasing Mike about his ‘special friend’ and asking when he’d bring Eddie around for dinner (much to Mike’s embarrassment) but was always willing to bake Eddie’s favorite blueberry muffins, especially when he explained that Eddie’s mom never baked anything for fear of him gaining weight.

Mike pedaled faster, thinking about how excited Eddie would be by the treat and hoping that they could spend some time alone before meeting the others at the arcade. He had been showing up a little early every day, just so he and Eddie could read comics together, or sit at a park. It was quiet times like those that Mike loved. The other day he had made Eddie a flower crown and revealed in the way Eddie’s eyes as he placed it on his head.  Mike had taken pictures of a smiling Eddie, posed against the bright blue sky.

That was what Mike thought about that as he turned the corner to Eddie’s street. Then he saw something that surprised him. It was Eddie on his bike, riding next to Richie and Ben and laughing. Mike’s heart fell to his stomach as he absorbed the scene. Eddie had been lying to him, all summer. His bike was fixed, good as new.

Mike watched them approaching, thinking distantly that he should move but taking no action. He could hear Eddie explaining the dangers of sitting too close to the screen during movies and Ben’s polite noises of agreement.

“Farmer Mike!” Richie shouted out as a hello, “Come to join us?”

Mike watched as Eddie's head snapped to him, his mouth dropping in astonishment. Something like shame burned in Mike’s stomach and he turned around, not saying anything in response. He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid, to giving Eddie rides all summer. He heard Eddie calling for him but didn’t turn back, instead biking home. Once there, he went to the pastures, sitting with the sheep and trying to calm down.

He spent several hours outside, turning off his phone and relaxing with the animals. He wasn’t necessarily angry, Mike was rarely truly angry. When the shock wore off he found himself hurt, wondering why Eddie would lie to him.

Eventually he stood and turned his phone back on. Unsurprisingly, he had several missed calls and some texts from his friends, wondering where he was. Most were from Eddie, asking him to call him back. The last one read ‘Come over tonight, please? We need to talk’ It was the only one Mike replied to with a simple ‘What time?’ Eddie immediately wrote back, saying whenever and promising to explain everything when Mike came. Mike wasn’t sure he wanted to see Eddie but avoiding it would only make things worse.

He hopped back on his bike, riding to Eddie’s. He pressed the doorbell and waited, thinking about how long it had been since he had been in Eddie’s house. His mom didn’t like any of the losers but seemed to hate Mike especially, he heard her muttering about ‘that black boy’ and hadn’t come over since.

So he was concerned about being back, especially now but he waited as he heard someone running to the door. Eddie answered the door, slightly winded and looked up at Mike. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He said.

“I needed to hear this explanation.”

“Come in,” Eddie moved aside, gesturing him in. “My mom is gone so we don’t need to worry.”

Mike slipped off his shoes and followed Eddie to the living room, where they sat on opposite sides of the couch. “I bet you’re pissed.” Eddie said, playing with a blanket.

“I'm not.” Mike told him honestly then he paused, trying to think what he was feeling. “I’m- disappointed. I feel used Eddie.” He told him honestly.

“No!” Eddie moved closer to Mike, not quite touching him and holding his hands out. “That’s not- I don’t want you to feel like that.”

“Then what? How should I feel? You said your bike was broken and it’s not. How long has it been fixed?” He looked at Eddie, who was looking back down at his hands.

“6 weeks.” Eddie said quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mike asked as another wave of hurt passed over him. Eddie had been lying to him for over a month.

Eddie opened his mouth to answer when an alarm went off. “I’ll be right back.” Eddie said, jumping up and disappearing into the kitchen.

When he came back Eddie sat close to Mike again, biting his bottom lip before saying, “I liked spending time with you.” he said, still not looking at Mike. “I liked riding around with you and getting you all to myself. I liked it. When my bike got fixed I didn’t want it to end.”

Mike felt any negative feelings slip away. “Why didn’t you tell me? We still could have spent time together. We are friends after all.”

Eddie nodded slowly. “I- because I think it means something different to me.”

Mike reached a hand under Eddie’s chin, tipping it up gently. “What do you mean?”

Eddie finally looked at him, his blue eyes meeting Mike’s brown ones. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Eddie, please. Please say it.” His heart was racing from the hope that Eddie was saying what he thought he was.

“I-” Eddie licked his lips. “Like you, in a different way than I like the others. In a-” Eddie stopped again, this time because Mike had leaned in and kissed him gently, letting his hand curl on Eddie’s cheek.

“Like that?” Mike asked after breaking the kiss, scanning Eddie’s face for any sign of unhappiness.

But Eddie was beaming, if a little surprised. “Exactly like that.” He said. Then his eyes flickered to the kitchen. “I made us dinner, if you want. As a thank you, and an I’m sorry.” He paused, looking at Mike again. “Do you want to stay?”

Mike smiled broadly. “Absolutely.”


	9. Pumpkin Carving- Stanlon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pumpkin carving for a Stanlon first date   
> Rated G

_This is a terrible idea_ , Stan thought to himself, laying out newspapers on the table.  _He’s probably going to hate it_. He groaned, feeling the familiar prickles of anxiety rising.  _It’s not too late, maybe I can think of_ -the doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts.

It was his first date with Mike. Stan had liked him for years but had long ago accepted that nothing would ever happen. He and Mike were close friends and that seemed to be it.

At least, until a week ago. Mike had been waiting for him after school, offering to give him ride home, which was somewhat unusual but not enough that he was worried. Mike usually had football practice after school, or he had to go home to help with chores, so he would leave right after the bell rang. But when he was free he would offer Stan a ride, the two sitting and recapping the day events, sometimes going out for coffee or to share a piece of pizza. This time was different though. Mike was silent the whole time, which made Stan nervous.

“Did I do something?” He asked as they rolled to a stop in front of his house. He had been racking his brain for an explanation for Mike’s odd behavior but hadn't found anything.

“What? No!” Mike exclaimed, alarmed eyes finally whipping to Stan.

“Well, what’s going on then?” Stan asked.

“Patty likes you.” Mike said, watching Stan’s reaction. It was one of surprise. Patty was a girl in his science class, nice enough but not- well, not Mike. “She’s going to ask you to homecoming.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, well. Oh.” He licked his lips, unsure what to say.

“Would you go with her?” Mike asked, acting strangely nervous.

It didn’t even strike Stan how odd the conversation was. He was wound up with the idea of Patty coming up and asking him, and how he would say no. He didn’t realize Mike had asked a question until he repeated it.

“What? No.” Stan said, shaking his head. “No, I don’t like her.”

He missed how Mike’s shoulders lost some tension. “Do you like someone else?”

Now he turned to Mike, finally taking in how tense he looked, how on edge. Stan nodded slowly.

“Who?”

He felt a blush rise on his cheeks. “Just- someone else.”

“One of the losers?”

Stan debated lying, or asking Mike to drop it. He knew if he asked Mike would. But something about the day, and how Mike was acting, made him say, “Maybe.”

Mike moved closer, shifting across the front seat of his truck. “Is it Bill? I’d understand if it was Bill.”

Stan shook his head. “Bill’s great, but no.”

“Ben? He’s got a poet’s heart.”

Stan smiled a little. “No, not Ben. He’s too wound up in Bev anyway.”

“Not Bev either then?” He shook his head again. “God, is it Richie?”

He laughed. “Hell no, being Richie’s best friend is exhausting enough. I don’t want anything else.”

“So it’s Eddie. He’s adorable, I get it.”

As Stan thought of how to reply he noticed how close Mike had gotten, closing the distance between them.

“It’s not Eddie.” Stan nearly whispered, trying not to chew on his bottom lip as he spoke.

Mike’s face broke out into a grin. “Thank god. I mean, I’d wish you two all the happiness but Richie and I would have had a lot of sad nights ahead.”

“So - you?” Stan asked. “You-”

“I like you.” Mike interrupted, his hand finding Stan’s cheek. He thought that Mike was going to kiss him but then Stan’s mom had called for him from the front door, telling him they needed to leave for his aunt’s house. Stan had spent the entire evening texting Mike, finally asking him on a date at the end of the night.

Now it was time for said date. When he thought of this idea he thought it was good, something that was just them but with an activity included. But now he was worried it was lame. He had printed off several patterns and had apple cider warming on the stove. His parents were out for the afternoon and even Stan had to admit that it was pretty lame that he was hoping to spend the afternoon pumpkin carving and not having sex. He’d always enjoyed pumpkin carving though, it was something he’d done with his parents growing up, he hoped Mike would agree.

He leapt up, opening the door to a smiling Mike. “I brought cookies.” He said, handing the plate to Stan and taking off his jacket. “My mom insisted.”

Mike was wearing a dark green sweater and all that ran through Stan’s mind was Richie’s terrible pick up line about if the sweater was made of boyfriend material. He snorted to himself, remembering when Richie tried it on Eddie and Eddie just replied, “It's fucking cashmere you dumbass.”

“What are you laughing at?” Mike asked, taking off his shoes.

Stan, who hadn't realized that he had made the noise out loud, blushed and shook his head. “Nothing, come in.” He lead Mike to the kitchen, feeling anxious again. “I thought we could carve pumpkins? I made apple cider too. Is that okay? We can do something else too- watch a movie or-” He was trying, and failing, not to ramble.

Mike put a hand on his arm, giving it a small squeeze. “This sounds great. I love cider.”

Stan tried to relax, reminding himself that Mike liked him, that he probably wasn’t going to run out of the house on Stan. He got them both a cup as Mike sat at the table. Then he was left to debate if he should sit next to Mike or across from him. Mike solved the issue by pulling the chair next to him out. He accepted the warm mug from Stan, their fingers brushing.

“I printed some outlines.” Stan said, showing him the elaborate patterns of haunted houses and ghouls. His mom and him had a contest each year to pick the hardest design, both working on it for hours.

Mike looked through all of them then said, “I think i’ll just do a face, if that’s okay. These are beyond my skill level.”

Stan nodded, trying not to feel disappointed in himself. “Sure, that’s- yea, you can do whatever you want, of course.” He took the stack back and took a Frankenstein's monster face. He watched as Mike cut into the top of his pumpkin, resisting the urge to say anything.

Mike must have noticed his expression because he stopped, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

Mike laughed, “It’s something. You can tell me.”

Stan tapped Mike’s pumpkin. “We usually carve out the bottom, it’s easier to get the seeds out. But it doesn’t matter, I mean, either way works.”

Mike nodded at his words. “A man with a plan, I like it.” Mike drew his knife out and started cutting out the bottom, starting to scoop out the inside.

The pair were quiet as they worked. Stan was focused on stenciling  his design, making pin pricks into the pumpkin as a guideline. He was trying to think of something to say and looked over, about to ask how Mike’s history test had gone, when he noticed something else. Mike was nearly done removing the seeds and had a stray seed on his cheek.

“You’re a bit enthusiastic.” He said as he brought his hand to Mike’s cheek, brushing the seed and causing Mike’s face to redden slightly.

“Sorry, I like this part. It’s my favorite.”

Stan wrinkled his nose. “I hate it. It’s messy.”

“A bit.” Mike shrugged, clearly not minding the mess. “We always roast the seeds after.”

Stan cocked his head, he had never done that and told Mike as much. “They’re good to snack on, and then you don’t waste the seeds. I can do it, if you want?” Mike asked. He seemed excited and Stan nodded. Stan was distracted by Mike’s animated movements but tried to listen as he explained the process.

He found the ingredients that Mike needed and watched him work, his hands washing the seeds carefully. Mike caught him looking and Stan flushed, embarrassed to be caught. He had always like Mike’s strong hands, rough from farmwork and so different than Stan’s delicate ones. He’d imagined Mike’s hands on his many times, thinking how they’d look together.

Stan didn’t know how to navigate this, this change from being friends to being  _more_. He desperately wanted the change but didn’t know what to say. Everything he thought of to say sounded dumb in his ears. Instead he focused on his pumpkin.

“Done!” Mike called out as Stan was carefully carving an ear. He looked up, alarmed. Mike turned his pumpkin towards Stan, a jagged, grinning face stared back at him.

“I-,” He faltered, unsure what to say, he had barely started the shading and Mike was done. “It looks great.”

Mike grinned at him, “It’s no masterpiece, like yours. But I’m happy with it. Do you have a candle?”

Stan nodded, grabbing a candle from the drawer. He handed it to Mike, who lit it then put it under his pumpkin, as Stan turned off the lights.

Stan walked to Mike, standing slightly in front of him, and looked at the glowing face and dancing flame. “Spooky.”

He stiffened as he felt Mike’s arms wrap around him, pulling him close. “Is this okay?” Mike murmured, his nose in Stan’s hair.

“Yes,” Stan whispered, barely daring to breath for fear of ruining the moment.

“I’m glad we’re doing this.” Mike told him. “Just us.”

Stan turned around, still in Mike’s arms. “Really? All this, it’s not lame or dumb?”

Mike shook his head. “I like it.”

“You’re sure?” Stan pressed. He still felt like all this was silly.

Mike’s eyes caught his and the other boy nodded. “I’m sure. Stan, I’m happy to do anything with you.”

“Oh,” He said, feeling caught off guard by the honesty in Mike’s voice.

“I’m going to kiss you, if that’s okay.” Stan nodded and Mike leaned in, connecting their lips. Stan smiled into the kiss, feeling, for the first time that day, that this was the perfect first date.


	10. "You need to believe me! Please!" Stozier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You need to believe me! Please!" Stozier

“Stan, You need to believe me. Please!” Richie had appeared at Stan’s side and was pleading with him for Stan to come with him.

 

He turned and gave his best glare, determined not to go. “I believe I told you not to call me that.” he said, not even bothering to stand as Richie resumed trying to convince him.

 

Richie grinned, cocky and self assured. “Maybe but your real name is so pretentious.” He leaned against the gate that Stan had been lounging near. “Astanphaeus? What a mouthful.”

 

His wings ruffled slightly at the insult. His name was holy, given to him millenia ago. “Oh, and Ralvath is so much better?”

 

“Nooo,” The other figure drawled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. “But I don’t go by that, do I? Everyone calls me Richie. Or Dick, but only if you ask nicely.” He winked at Stan, taking a long draw from his cigarette. “Or not so nicely, depending on the person.”

 

With a flick of his wrist Stan made the gate disappear, causing Richie to tumble to the ground, a small ‘oof’ escaping him.

 

“Now that you’ve injured me.” Richie said, standing and brushing himself off.  Stan raised an eyebrow, he knew it would take far more than a simple fall to injure something like Richie.  He’d seen him survive falls of thousands of feet without so much as a scratch. “Will you come with me? I have something to show you.”

 

Stan folded his wings around himself, shaking his head. “I don’t believe for an instant that you found a three headed dog down on Earth. There’s only one of those and he’s far from Earth’s surface.”

 

Richie strolled over to him, shrugging. “You didn’t believe me when I told you that the humans had finally figured out how to fly in the air either. Who was right then?” Richie reached out, running his hand over the curve of Stan’s wing. Stan shuddered, looking up at him. Richie knew that his wings were sensitive, crowded with nerve endings that made simple touches more intense.

 

“Not all of us can simply come and go as we please you know.” He said, turning away but Richie caught his chin, forcing Stan to look at him.

 

“I’ll keep you safe, my Sparrow. I promise.”

 

“You always say that.” He replied, reluctantly unfolding his wings.

 

“And I’ve always kept it. You know I can’t lie.” He said, offering Stan a hand.

 

“No, but you are often inventive with the truth.” Richie just winked and Stan nodded with resignation, accepting Richie’s outstretched hand.  When you were an angel in love with a demon you often found yourself going along with plans you didn’t like. He had learned this lesson many times over the millenia.

 

He followed Richie to a more remote corner, letting him lead the way. As always, he was struck by how much Richie stuck out here. In a deep purple pinstripe suit, with his slicked back black hair, he clearly didn’t belong. Even the clouds seemed to know it, sagging slightly under his weight like they never did for angels. Stan liked it though, it was what had made him notice Richie the first time, back in the dark ages. He had been on Earth, trying to inspire an artist or two to create great works when he found Richie, lurking in the corner.

 

Richie was a lesser demon, more prone to small annoyances than anything truly wicked. He had been convincing a lady’s maid not to empty the chamber pot, and to instead go flirt with the stable boy. What she didn’t know was that this lead to the lady of the house tripping over the pot and tumbling down the stairs, embarrassing the house in front of the visiting Duke and ruining the chance of a lucrative marriage proposal for her daughter. She would go on to instead marry a lesser baron, ruining the mother’s careful plans of growing beyond her station. Every action has consequences after all.

 

Richie had seen Stan first, approaching him with an apple- he loved a good reference- and introducing himself. Stan had refused to give him anything beyond his name and Richie had just sat, eating the apple and watching as he whispered inspiration into the minds of young artists. Some of it worked, Donatello had been his pride and joy from that era. Others it lead to madness (still with occasional great art). Speaking to humans was hard, there was a fine line between brilliance and madness.

 

It continued that way for years. He’d offer Stan an apple. Stan would refuse. Richie would lounge and watch whatever Stan was doing.

 

Finally one day Stan inquired as to why. “Don’t you have better things to do instead of sitting here and observing me? Can’t you go curse a midwife or something?”

 

Richie shrugged, smirking. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Why would I bother with the humans when I have divinity in front of me?”

 

The sides of Stan’s lips turned down, seeking out the falsehood in Richie’s words. Demons, like angels, weren’t allowed to lie but they could twist and embellish the truth. But, to his confusion, Stan found none of the usual trickery here.  He wasn’t considered attractive among the angels, he was too low ranking and his affinity for humans made him something of an outcast. He was largely ignored and he preferred it that way. Moving up the angel hierarchy didn’t interest him. He wanted to be here with the humans.

 

“You’re a strange demon.” He told the being, finally turning to gaze at him.

 

“You're a strange angel. Why do you spend so much time on Earth? Your kind always seems eager to get back to the harps and pageantry.”

 

He paused, unsure if he should share this with a demon. Angels and demons were like feuding families, both knowing that they needed the other but not liking it. Angels found demons disgusting and unimportant, demons found them pretentious and boring. For some reason though this demon intrigued Stan. He found himself answering honestly.

 

“I like watching the humans in their daily life. They spend so much time striving for a better tomorrow. We never have to do that. We know that tomorrow will be much like today. There’s never a reason for us to fret. These humans, they spend most of their lives worrying about bad things that will never happen. It’s sad and beautiful.”

 

Richie stood, walking until he stood in front of Stan. “Let me show you something.” He offered his hand and Stan knew what taking it meant. He wasn’t supposed to associate with demons, he was supposed to be above that. But he liked the twinkle of mischief in his eye, and how warm his hand felt as Stan touched it. So he nodded.

 

Instantly, he was somewhere different. He looked around. It was a village or had been, once. Now it was destroyed, likely by the Crusades. Huts were burned down, the ground was red with blood. The air held the scent of death.

 

He frowned, vexed that he had fallen for the cruel joke. “Yes, I’m aware. We caused this. Is that what you want to hear? This destruction was our hubris.” His wings ruffled, a true sign of his displeasure. This was a constant debate among the angels, if the crusades were worth it. He felt that the loss of human life made them inexcusable but others saw it as a necessary step and revealed in them.

 

Richie shook his head, tsking quietly. “You angels, always assuming that we want to assign blame. That wasn’t why I brought you here.” He took Stan’s shoulders and carefully turned him. Now Stan was looking at the humans, the ones who remained. They were building a house, doing what they could to help one another. Children played behind them, shrieking with joy.

 

“It’s the resilience that I like.” Richie told him. “These horrible things happen and they simply grieve then rebuild.”

 

Stan nodded. He wanted to ask more. Demons were supposed to reveal in the cruelness of humans, their ability to hold a grudge, not appreciated their persistence. But he didn’t, not yet. Instead he walked to a nearby tree to get a better view of the families. As he did he heard a small song. Looking up, he noticed a tiny bird on the branch, cheeping to itself. He’d always liked birds, though he rarely saw them since he was often in the dirty cities. This one was plain, small and brown. He liked those more than the extravagant peacocks that many rich people kept as pets. These small ones fit better on earth, small and unassuming with their own delicate beauty.

 

Richie appeared at his shoulder, also watching the bird. “Are you a bird angel? Usually your type ignores the simple ones in favor of the more ostentatious breeds, or doves. Your kind seems to love doves.”

 

“I like this one.” He replied, still watching as it hopped from branch to branch. “What is it?”

 

Richie leaned in, speaking into his ear. “A sparrow.”

 

Of course, that was hundreds of years ago. Sparrows had been extinct for decades, their homes collapsing as trees were cut down to make room for office buildings and fast food restaurants.

 

Stan still inspired artists, though now it was more likely to a vlogger than a painter but he enjoyed it the same. Richie had moved on to modern annoyances, his greatest accomplishment had been the added fees for ticketmaster. He rode that out for decades.

 

They reached the end of the clouds and Richie turned to him. “I misspoke about the dog. It was just some child’s prank.”

 

“I’m shocked,” Stan replied. Spending so much time among the humans had lead both of them to pick up their speech habits. He found he particularly liked sarcasm.

 

“It’s better.” Richie said, snapping his fingers and whisking them to a new place. Stan looked around at the sterile, sanitized environment. There were long metal tables with cages on them. The occupants were small animals. The noise of chirps, barks and grunts was deafening.

 

“Where are we?” Stan asked, looking around.

 

“A lab. They’re working on recreating extinct animals.” Richie lead Stan to a specific table. “I thought you’d enjoy this one in particular.”

 

The table held rows of birds of all different kinds. Ones Stan hadn’t seen for decades- crows, pigeons, blue jays and - “Sparrows.” He breathed, reaching the cage Richie had indicated.

 

Richie nodded, letting go of his hand as Stan leaned in, watching the small bird flit about the cage. He was as beautiful as Stan remembered, a mix of browns and blacks for feathers and small, intelligent eyes.

 

He heard Richie speak behind him. “Thought you may enjoy it. A sparrow for my Sparrow.”

 

He turned, rolling his eyes. “How did I find the cheesiest demon?”

 

Richie put his hands on Stan’s hips, pulling him closer. “You didn’t. I found you, remember?”

 

Stan leaned in, kissing his strange demon fiercely. What else could you do, when you were an angel who had fallen for a demon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this story so so sooo much   
> Inspired by Good Omens


	11. “How was I supposed to know that that would kill them?!” Stanlon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “How was I supposed to know that that would kill them?!” Stanlon  
> Rated T

“How was I supposed to know that that would kill them?!” Stan asked, staring down at the not moving, very much dead body.

Bill shook his head, sighing. “You’re the poisoner here Stan. It’s literally your job to know things like that.” He kicked the body slightly, clearly annoyed. “Just, fucking get rid of it. I don’t care how. Your body your problem.” With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out. Stan gave a frustrated sigh, watching him leave then turned back to the body, staring at it unhappily.

Mike jumped off the counter he had been sitting on and walked over to Stan, looking down at the corpse. “Really, you just killed him a few hours ahead of time. That’s all.”

Stan looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Are you fucking making fun of me?”

Mike put his hands up in a gesture of innocence. The new guy was touchy, good to know. “No man, just commenting.” Stan huffed and Mike continued, delicately, “I’ll help you with this. Do you want the arms or feet?”

Stan paled slightly and Mike was reminded how green he was- and how cute he was when he wasn’t trying to be tough. His face was as pale as his curls, which moved as Stan shook his head. “Neither.”

Mike give him a wry smile. “Not an option.”

He gave Stan another minute to respond and then, when he didn’t, prodded him gently. “Waiting won’t make this any easier.”

Stan looked at him, then back at the body, exhaling loudly “Why the fuck am I here?” Mike shrugged. Then, unhappily, he added, “Arms, I guess.”

Mike went to the feet, pulling the feet up and waiting for Stan to grab the arms. He didn’t know why Stan was here. He had showed up one day, looking for work, and Bill had offered him a job, saying he had grown up with Stan. Supposedly he was good with poisons and the group needed that. Except, the man they were carrying was supposed to still be alive and just in severe pain. Instead Stan had killed him. It wasn’t a big deal, the man was schedule to die anyway, but Bill had wanted information from him.

“We can take him to the incinerator.” Mike said as they started walking. “It’ll be the easiest.”

Stan nodded, still looking put out. He didn’t talk as they walked. He was scowling slightly, muttering to himself. Mike watched as his lips moved, something about ‘dumbass’ and ‘can’t even kill a guy right’. Even that was cute, how annoyed Stan was with himself. Mike could tell that he was harder on himself than anyone else would be.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mike asked as they heaved the body into the incinerator.

“Why are you helping me?” Stan asked, looking directly at him. He had an intense gaze when he wanted, one that made you want to tell the truth. It was too bad that he didn’t use that when he was interrogating people. “Everyone else ignores me. Bev hasn’t said a word, Richie just calls me stupid nicknames, Eddie whispers things to him whenever I walk in the room and I’m one mistake away from Bill kicking me out.”

 _Because you’re hot_ Mike thought. But he didn’t say that. Stan seemed skittish and Mike didn’t want to scare him away. Instead he answered about the other, “Bev takes a while to warm up to people like that, assassins aren’t exactly the most open people.” She specialized in silent takedowns, breaking into houses and killing people while they slept. And she was damn good at it, she had never left so much as a hair for people to find.

Mike continued. “Richie’s an ass but, deep down, he’s a good guy.” He was their con man, a fast talker who excelled at pulling one over on people. With his boyfriend Eddie working the crowd and keeping people focused on Richie they were an unstoppable team. Bill had found them picking pockets on the streets, Richie doing card tricks while Eddie’s nimble fingers stole wallets. He had recruited them after they managed to lift his wallet. “They’ll both warm up to you.”

“And Bill?” Stan asked as they started back up the stairs.

“He let you in for a reason. He’s not just going to kick you out. Besides-” Mike bumped Stan’s shoulder. “You know too much. He’d just kill you.”

Stan paled again. “How comforting.”

“I’m joking!” Mike wasn’t, he knew what happened to the last person that disappointed Bill. Greta had mouthed off one too many times and then one day she never showed up for breakfast. Richie had joked that Ben, their cook, had made her into that night’s stew. Mike was pretty sure she was just at the bottom of some river- he hoped at least. He had had three servings of that stew.

They walked in silence again until Mike spoke, “But I’ll help you, if you want. I know some stuff about poison.”

“I thought you were the muscle.” Stan said, his eyes straying to Mike’s biceps.

Mike smirked. “Hey, I’m more than just muscles. I’m the weapons expert too. And I was the poison expert until you showed up.” Mike had connections that the others didn’t, making it easier to get the weapons they needed without any pesky questions or forms.

Stan’s face fell. “So you guys don’t need me.”

Mike shook his head. “I accidentally killed a couple guys too. That’s why you’re here.” Mike didn’t have the patience for the precision of poison. He preferred other methods to collect information.

Stan gave him a small, contained smile. “That, weirdly, makes me feel better.”

“Everything is weird around here.” Mike said, putting a careful arm around Stan, giving him a chance to move away. He didn’t and Mike gave his shoulder a small squeeze. “You get used to it.” Stan’s smile grew at his words.

“I hope so.” They were back in the main room which was now vacant. Mike removed his arm and was about to leave when Stan spoke again, “Want to come to my room?” Stan realized what he said and flushed slightly. “To help with the poisons.” He clarified.

“Of course. Lead the way.” Mike said, following Stan to his second floor room and trying to figure out what Stan already knew about poisons. He hoped that Stan figured it out because he desperately wanted him to stick around. He wanted to learn more about this strange, curly hair man and where he came from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So whatever I love this concept and could totally write a fic on it


	12. Stan walks in on Mike working out- Stanlon NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW prompt. Stan walks in on Mike working out, shirtless, and they bone.  
> Rated M

With an overflowing laundry basket in hand Stan made his way down stairs, carefully to avoid the rickety step. He had been putting off laundry for weeks and finally had time to do it. He had put aside the afternoon to knock out as much of the pile as he could.

As he reached the bottom step he saw that he wasn’t alone. That wasn’t unusual, sharing a house with all the other losers meant that there was usually someone else around. Stan liked it that way. It was one of the reasons he’d agreed to move in with all his friends after graduation, so he’d have someone around to talk to and hang out with. Coming home to hear music playing or a lighthearted argument about which Marvel movie was best (Richie insisted that it was Iron Man 2 and no one could let that go) were normal, welcome things.

However this situation was different. This time ‘not alone’ meant that there was a shirtless, sweaty Mike in the basement who was working out on his barbell set. One of Mike’s requirements for moving in had been that he could use some of the basement space to work out in. He had played football and baseball through college and now that they had graduated he refused to ‘let himself go’ as he put it. 

One glance told Stan that Mike had nothing to worry about. He was doing curls ups on a bar, slowing raising and lowering himself. His muscles were taut and Stan could see the sheen of sweat on him, some rolling off and hitting the floor. He kept making small grunt noises as he worked. Stan felt a pull in the bottom of his stomach, the unbidden thought about whether Mike make those same noises during sex coming to his mind. 

Stan wasn’t sure precisely when his feelings toward Mike went from ‘wow we’re really good friends’ to ‘wow I want you to fuck me senseless’ but the shift had definitely occurred. It made him awkward around Mike, it was hard for him to sit by Mike without thinking about how close they were, what parts of them were touching. And he hated hearing about Mike’s dates, usually choosing to leave the room instead. Stan was sure Mike noticed but he was too polite to say anything. He was trying desperately to get over his crush, knowing that it couldn’t go anywhere.

It took him a minute to realize that he was staring and that Mike hadn't seen him yet. He was rapidly veering into creeper territory so as he finished his descent he coughed, loud enough that Mike looked over and smiled at him. Stan managed not to melt. 

“Hey Stan, laundry day?” Mike asked, dropping off the bar and walking over. 

He nodded, “Work has been so busy that I haven’t had time- and the machine is finally fixed after Richie’s weird fish experiment.” 

Mike laughed, Stan could feel him watching as he walked over and started putting in his first load. He asked about work, and how it was going and Stan asked about his grad program. It was nice, Stan forgot how much he missed talking to Mike. And as long as he didn’t turn around and look at his bare torso he could keep talking. 

Eventually he was done sorting and had to start the machine, Turning to Mike he said, “See you in forty five minutes.” 

He was halfway to the stairs when Mike called out, “Hey Stan, wait.” He turned, seeing Mike standing awkwardly. “Can you spot me? On the bench?” He pointed to the low bench as he talked.

He looked from sweaty Mike, his sweatpants hanging criminally low, to the bar, which had the weights already stacked on either side. “I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be.” He stammered. Stan’s weight lifting consisted solely of lifting binoculars for watching birds. 

“You don’t have to do much, just make sure I don’t die if they fall.” Mike said, lowering himself onto the bench. “Please?” 

“I-fine.” Stan relented, walking behind Mike. “Tell me what to do.”

“Watch me, if it looks like the weights are too heavy help me lift them back up. I’ll try to tell you before that happens though.” Mike told him, lifting the weights off the bar. Stan realized that Mike had given him permission to stare. He watched as Mike carefully lowered the bar, his muscles bulging. He wasn’t sure Mike needed him, he seemed to be lifting the weights without any trouble, Stan thought as he watched the sweat roll off Mike. It dripped from his forehead to his chest, rolling down into the small cave on his clavicle. It was unreal how attractive Stan found it, wanting to grab a towel and wipe Mike off, especially his chest. 

Stan realized that his thoughts were veering into more-than-friendly territory as he thought about toweling Mike off all over or just licking the sweat off. To distract himself he started to hum. 

Mike paused, arms bent and glanced at Stan. “Are you humming wheels on the bus?”

Stan stopped, realizing that that was exactly what he was doing. He had just finished the section with ‘The wipers on the bus go Swish, swish, swish; Swish, swish, swish’.

“Um, yes.” 

The other man laughed. “Why?” 

“Just trying to keep my mind off other things.”

Mike raised and lowered the weights again before asking, “Like what?”

“Work,” Stan lied. “Things have been hectic lately, I’m stressed.”

Now Mike hung up the weights, sitting up. “Work out with me, it’s great for stress.”

He scoffed. “I’m not you Mike, I can’t do a push up to save my life.” 

“I can help you.” Mike said, grabbing a set of light weights. “We’ll start with bicep curls, it’s easy.”

“In my sweater?” Stan asked, gesturing to his beige oversized sweater. 

“You’re right, you’ll overheat. Take it off,” Mike suggested. Then, realizing what he said blushed slightly and added, “If you want.”

Stan pulled off the sweater. He was wearing a light tank top underneath and tried not to shiver as the basement air hit his arms. “We’ll get you warmed up.” Mike said, handing Stan the weights and moving behind him. “I’ll show you form.” Mike pressed against Stan, he could feel Mike’s sweat on his back and the heat from his chest soaking into him.

“Don’t want improper form.” Stan managed to say without squeaking. 

Mike wrapped an arm around his waist, the other covering Stan’s arm. “You want to keep your elbow against your side then slowly raise and lower the weights.” Mike said as he demonstrated the action with Stan’s arm. “Got it?” He asked, letting go of Stan’s arm but not moving back. His other hand was on Stan’s stomach, fingers splayed against it. “Gotta keep your abs on at all times.” He said, lightly pressing his fingers in. 

Stan swallowed then nodded, trying to focus on lifting the weight. It was impossible. He could feel Mike’s breath on his neck and all of Mike was pressed against him. He gave a half hearted pump of the weight and Mike chuckled. “Keep going.” 

Mike shifted against him, his hips seeming to press into Stan as he continued the motion. Stan forced himself to focus on that, until Mike told him to switch arms. He did and Mike moved slightly, Stan felt him shift back. “Oh, I got you all wet.” Mike said, running his hand down Stan’s back. “Sorry.”

Stan was certain he was going to die. He uttered something like, ‘it’s fine’ and Mike moved back against him. He knew he was bright red but at least Mike was behind him and couldn’t see his face. Mike had switched hands, his right one was now on Stan’s stomach, his pinky resting on the waistband of Stan’s sweatpants. He could feel the heat of his hand through his thin shirt and felt himself growing hard as Mike’s fingers pressed into him. “Stand straight.” He said and Stan adjusted his posture, trying to obey. As he did he arched into Mike and felt something pressing against him in Mike’s pants. 

Mike must have known that Stan felt it because he instantly leapt back. “Fuck, sorry. Fuck.” Mike said as Stan turned around, looking at him in awe. Mike was rubbing his face and looked humiliated. Stan’s eyes trailed down to the bulge in his sweatpants. 

“I didn’t mean to- I was just trying to help. I swear.” Mike said, looking off to the side. “I just wanted to be close to you.” 

Stan took a cautious step forward. It was rare to see Mike flustered, Stan thought he could count the times on one hand.

“Close to me?” 

Mike nodded and looked at him. “You already know that, isn't that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because you figured out how I felt?”

“What? No, no.” A dry chuckle escaped Stan. “I was avoiding you because I-” He paused then made himself press on. “I  _ like  _ you.” He tried to make it clear what kind of ‘like’ he mean. “And I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Mike stepped forward and put a hand on Stan’s cheek, drawing him in. “I could never hate you.” His brown eyes met Stan’s green ones and he smiled. “You like me?” Stan nodded and Mike exhaled audibly. “Fuck Stan, I want to kiss you.” 

Rather than waiting for Mike Stan plunged forward, his lips meeting Mike’s. Mike’s other hand came up, gripping Stan’s face to keep him close. Stan pushed him against a wall, practically falling into him in an effort to get closer. Stan didn’t let himself think, instead running his hands over Mike’s torso and enjoying how he arched into his touch. Mike’s hands moved down from his face to Stan’s back then his ass, giving it a squeeze. He groaned into Mike’s mouth, grinding against him. Mike pushed a leg between Stan’s, giving him some friction that he desperately needed. 

“ _ Fuck _ Stan,” Mike said as Stan moved his mouth to Mike’s broad shoulders, finally getting to lick the skin that he’d been dreaming about. It was salty and and he could feel Mike shuddering under him. 

“Is this too fast?” Stan murmured, licking a long stripe up Mike’s adam’s apple. 

“Not for me,” Mike said, his hands splaying on Stan’s hips, holding him close. “Do you want to slow down?’

Stan shook his head, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Mike’s throat. Part of him was convinced that this had to be a dream and that if he stopped he’d wake up. He felt Mike shift and then those confident hands picked him up, forcing him to wrap his legs around Mike as they changed positions. Mike pressed Stan into the wall, hands cupping his ass as Mike ground against him. Stan’s hands gripped his back, trying desperately to keep him close. 

“God, Mike,” Stan whine, aware of how broken his voice was. Mike was thrusting into him and he could feel how hard Mike was, even through the layers of clothes. 

“Want you Stan, I’ve wanted you for years.” Mike said, hips still jutting against him. 

“Then fuck me, please, Mike. I want you to.” Stan asked, enjoying the wide eyed look of surprise that he got from Mike. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. Stan could only nod and wrap his legs tighter, trying to force their erections to grind together. He whined, the contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to feel all of Mike.

“Okay but, fuck, not down here. Not in the basement. I’m going to carry you up to my room.”

“Carry me?” Stan asked, looking at him incredulously. 

Mike nodded. “If you think I’m putting you down you’re fucking crazy.” He kissed Stan again then pulled back, “is that okay?” 

Stan felt a smile tug at his lips. This was one of the reasons he liked Mike, he was constantly checking in, making sure things were okay and that he wasn’t pushing anyone’s boundaries. 

He nodded and Mike started walking, easily carrying Stan up the stairs and to his first floor bedroom. Stan loved Mike’s room, he had several plants in it and a small window box where he grew herbs. It always smelled like spring. Mike opened the door and laid Stan on the bed, lowering himself down to kiss him again. Stan’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. Mike’s lips were firm and persistent against Stan’s, enough that Stan knew without a doubt how much he wanted this. He tried not to whine as Mike shifted against him, his weight new but still comforting on Stan. When Mike ground into him he did groan, arching into him, silently asking for more. 

“Can I take off your shirt?” Mike asked. He nodded and sat up, letting Mike pull off his shirt, tossing it aside. Stan pulled Mike down onto him, enjoying the skin to skin contact. Mike moved over Stan, rutting into him and Stan gasped at the sensation. He wanted more of Mike, wanted to feel him everywhere, but also wanted to enjoy this, being able to look up and see Mike and feel him pressed against him. 

Mike was pressing kisses into his neck and started to move down, sliding slowly off Stan and lowering his lips to Stan’s nipple, swirling his tongue over it. “Mike!” He bucked up, feeling Mike’s hot breath on him as he laughed. 

“You’re so responsive Stan.” Mike commented, moving to his other nipple. His hand played at Stan’s pants button, fingers nearly pressing under the hem. “Can I touch you?” He asked before lowering his mouth again and latching on to suck. 

Stan let out a long whine, nodding furiously. But he could tell Mike wanted verbal confirmation, his fingers just continued to trace above Stan’s pants, running over his hips and stomach.

“Yes, Mike, please.” Stan’s voice came out broken. He needed Mike to touch him. Mike lifted his mouth, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest and then unbuttoning Stan’s pants, sliding them and his underwear off. 

Mike paused, staring down at him and Stan started to curl in on himself, feeling exposed, but Mike grabbed his hands, gently forcing him back down. “Beautiful Stan, you’re beautiful.” He said, bending back down to kiss Stan’s hips. 

He wanted to argue but then Mike’s hand was on him, gliding over his erection. “Oh Mike.” He stammered, his hands reaching for Mike. Mike offered Stan his free hand, winding their fingers together as his other one moved on Stan. Mike’s touch was light and gentle, clearly trying to stretch out his enjoyment. He moved in long, unhurried strokes, watching Stan’s reactions as he groaned and bit his lip. 

“Mike, please, I want you in me.” Stan finally said, squeezing Mike’s hand. 

Mike bent down and kissed him. “Okay,” He pulled back and smiled at Stan. “This is really happening huh?”

“It had better be.” He said, watching Mike shuck his pants and briefs. Mike was fit and Stan let his eyes roam over him, especially how his muscles moved as he bent over. 

Mike chuckled at his comment, grabbing the lube and condom before coming back to Stan. He ran a hand over Stan’s thigh, stopping at his hole and circling it with a finger. Stan was about to complain again that he was taking too long but Mike leaned over, kissing Stan’s forehead. “Let me enjoy this Stan, I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He squeezed some lube on his finger and circled Stan’s hole again. 

“Me too,” Stan said, letting out a shuddering sigh as Mike pushed in. “Me too Mike.” 

“Good,” Mike bent down, peppering kisses on Stan’s thighs as he started to move his finger. Stan wanted more, he wanted Mike to move faster but Mike seemed content to go slow, not adding another finger until Stan was nearly begging. He took even longer to add the third finger, praising Stan the whole time.

Stan cried out as Mike crooked a finger, hitting his prostate straight on. “Mike, fuck me, now.” He demanded, opening his eyes to a very pleased looking Mike. Stan grabbed the condom and ripped it open before sitting up. He rolled it onto Mike, pleased to see him gasp as he did. 

“Glad that I have some effect on you.” Stan said, palming the head of Mike’s erection and watching how his eyes closed and hips rolled. 

Mike leaned over, removing his fingers and kissing Stan soundly before crawling back on top of him. “You have all sorts of effects on me.” Mike promised, grinding against Stan. They kissed for another minute before Stan was arching into him again, desperate to feel Mike inside him.

With one more kiss Mike grabbed himself and Stan felt him against his hole. Stan grabbed Mike’s shoulders, letting out a shuddering breath as Mike sunk into him. “ _ Mike _ ,” he gasped as Mike bottomed out. 

“Are you okay?” Mike asked, bending down to capture Stan’s lips again. Stan nodded and Mike started to move slowly, letting Stan adjust. His finger dug into Mike’s shoulders, overwhelmed by the sensation- especially when Mike thrust back into him with force, making both cry out. This continued, Mike keeping up his slow pace as he kissed Stan fiercely.

“Mike, can we-” Stan started, then stopped as Mike began to move faster. 

“What? Anything for you.” Mike said, bending down to kiss his neck and shoulders. 

“Pin me against the wall again, please.” 

Mike sat up slightly, smiling down at him. “You liked that?” 

“So much.” 

“Hold onto me.” Mike told him and Stan wrapped his legs and arms around Mike, cling to him then he felt himself being lifted off the bed and brought to the wall. Mike pressed him against it, their chests firmly pressed together. 

“Fuck!” He cried out as Mike started to move again. Mike’s hands were spreading his cheeks, letting him get deeper inside him. “Mike, Mike.” He chanted, burying his head in Mike’s shoulders. 

“Stan, baby, you feel so good around me.” Mike grunted, “So hot and tight.” 

Stan could only nod as Mike continued. He was hard, and close, but his erection was sandwiched between them and he couldn’t reach it. Mike seemed to realize this because he nudged Stan after a few minutes, making him look up. “Okay if I put you down so I can touch you?” 

He nodded again, kissing Mike. “Yes.” Stan slowly unwound his legs and Mike put him down, turning Stan around so he faced the door before sliding back into him. Stan whined at the new angle and Mike’s hand slid around him, grabbing his erection and pumping. His other hand when to Stan’s chest, playing with a nipple.

“So hot like this Stan, spread out for me, I can barely stand it.” Mike said as he thrust. Stan turned his head so Mike could kiss him messily. Mike’s thrusts became quicker and his hand dropped to Stan’s hip, gripping it tightly as he came, uttering a single “Fuck,” as he did. 

Stan wasn’t far behind, Mike’s thumb swept his head and he felt the familiar tug at the bottom of his stomach before the white bliss of an orgasm overtook him. He painted the wall of Mike’s wall with his cum, nearly collapsing against it after. 

Mike kissed Stan’s shoulder again and then pulled out, throwing the condom away and leading Stan to his bed where they curled into each other. Stan fought off falling asleep, forcing his eyes open so he could look at Mike. “That really happened,” He said, half asking.

Mike took Stan’s hand, playing with his fingers. “It did.”

“And it can happen again?”

He chuckled. “So many more times.” He kissed Stan. “I’m glad you came downstairs to do laundry.”

“I’m glad you were smooth enough to show me how to work out. Good pick up line.”

Mike moved closer, nuzzling Stan. “That wasn’t a line, I just want to be near you. I didn’t think it would end like this.” 

Stan smirked. “Lucky me.” 

“Lucky us.” Mike said, kissing his forehead. 


	13. Broken Shower- Stanlon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My shower’s broken but I’ve got a date tonight could I possibly use your shower please?” “Oh sure (neighbour that I’ve been crushing on for the past six months) of course you can use my shower to get ready for your date (fuck fuck fuck) for either stanlon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T

Mike hummed along to the music while he made dinner, his way of unwinding after a long day at work. He loved his job as a research librarian but there were days when the requests felt like someone was pulling a prank on him. Like today when someone asked him to research about a specific land law that had been repealed in the 1800’s. There wasn’t much about the law but the woman had insisted that he wasn’t looking hard enough. It had taken several hours to convince her that no, there really weren’t any articles or cases about it, and then she had been upset with him for not finding it. It was exhausting. 

But that was behind him. Now, he just had to focus on stirring his risotto and not burning the bread. It was shaping up to be a good night. 

His reverie was broken by a knock on his door. Glancing at his food he decided that it would be okay for a few minutes so he walked over to the door, checking his peep hole. The sight on the other side surprised him. It was his neighbor, Stan, clad in a bathrobe with dripping hair.

He and Stan had been neighbors for a few months and constantly ran into each other. It had lead to a casual banter between them and a definite crush on Mike’s end. He liked the deadpan way Stan delivered his jokes or the rueful way he rolled his eyes when Mike made a bad pun. There had been a few times that he thought Stan felt the same- a touch that lingered too long or an offer for dinner that was never followed up on. Mike had wanted to ask him out from day one but decided that it would be weird, they were neighbors and he didn’t want to make things awkward. But now he was knocking on Mike’s door at 5pm on a Friday. 

Opening the door, Mike got a better look at him. His hair was sudsy, bubbles mixed with the damp curls,  and he seemed to not be wearing anything under the robe. “Yes?” Mike asked, swallowing and making himself focus on Stan’s face. 

Which was in an expression of displeasure. “Hi Mike, odd question- can I use your shower? My piece of shit one broke in the middle of my shower and I have a date in-” he glanced at Mike’s clock. “Forty minutes.” Mike didn’t answer and Stan gestured at himself. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent.” 

“I- sure.” Mike said, ushering him in as the words sank in. 

“Thanks.” 

Mike watched as the other man padded into his apartment, dripping on his floor.  Stan had a scar on his left calf and Mike focused on that, not on the nearly naked man in front of him. “Anything special about it?” Stan asked, pulling Mike out of his thoughts. 

Mike shook his head, “Should be the same as yours, just intact.”

Stan laughed, a short chuckle that warmed Mike’s lovesick heart. 

“Thanks, I’ll be quick.” Stan said, shutting the door. Once he did Mike slumped against his counter, cursing his luck that this was the circumstance that brought the cute, curly haired, blue eyed neighbor that Mike had admired from afar for months to his door. A date with someone else. Whatever Mike had hoped they had, he was clearly wrong. He went back to his beer, taking a deep drink and reminding himself not to wallow. He had no one to blame but himself. 

“Mike?” Stan called, popping his head out of the bathroom. “Your shower is newer than mine- which I’m definitely complaining about- can you show me how it works?” 

_ Sure adorable neighbor boy who’s wearing next to nothing _ , Mike thought, walking over,  _ I’ll show you how to work my shower so you can go on a date with someone else. Sounds awesome.  _

When he entered Stan was standing on the far side of Mike’s small bathroom. “Sorry to be a pain.” He said, playing with his bottom lip. Mike wanted to pull it out and kiss it. 

Instead he said, “You’re not a pain.” Then moved his shower curtain, gesturing to the shower. “Hot, Cold, off, on.” He said, indicating the directions with each word. “You’ve got to pull out to turn it on.” Glancing back he saw that Stan had walked closer, his chin nearly on Mike’s shoulder. Mike could smell his shampoo.  “Does that help?” He asked, wanting to get away from the proximity. 

Stan nodded and Mike was again hyper aware that Stan was only wearing a robe, especially as the end of it brushed his back. “It helps.” Stan said, his voice nearly in Mike’s ear, a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks again.”

For a second, Mike let himself envision pushing the robe off Stan’s shoulders and kissing him, sinking to his knees in front of Stan in his bathroom and convincing him not to go on that date. 

But he shook his head, reminding himself that Stan wasn’t his. “Great.” He croaked out before leaving the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

Once he was alone again he rubbed his hands over his face, telling himself to get it together. He plated his meal, grateful that nothing had burned in the time that he spent with Stan. 

Stan emerged a few minutes later, back in his robe, his hair slicked back. “That smells fantastic.” He said, eyeing up Mike’s food.

“I’d invite you to join me but-” Mike didn’t finish the sentence, instead giving a small shrug. 

Stan nodded, giving him a small smile. “Duty calls. Thanks for the shower.” 

“Anytime. I hope the date goes well.” He thought he saw a flash of a frown on Stan’s face but instead he just nodded then left. Mike ignored the jealous that curled in his chest. 

He spent the evening playing video games, he was in the middle of battling an orc when there was another knock on his door. Pausing his game he stood and went to the door. Again, it was Stan, fully dressed this time. 

“Did you need to borrow my oven or something?” He asked, opening it. 

Stan shook his head, looking almost embarrassed. “I wanted to say thanks, for earlier. I barged in on you and you were much nicer than you had to be.” He held out of a bottle of wine. “So, thanks.”

Mike accepted the wine and watched as Stan shifted his weight. He wasn’t someone who normally seemed embarrassed, it was one of the things Mike liked about him. Stan was confident, maybe to the point of hubris. Seeing him like this was odd. So, making an impulse decision, he asked, “Do you want to come in? We can open this, maybe watch a movie?” He licked his lips, hoping that Stan wasn’t going to reject him. 

To his relief, Stan nodded, his curls bouncing slightly. Mike saved his game and turned on netflix, letting Stan pick a movie while he poured them wine. He sat on the couch, far from Stan, and looked at his selection. The Babadook.

“I didn’t peg you for the horror movie type.” Mike said, handing Stan his wine and letting their fingers brush.

Stan shrugged, “I’ve wanted to see it and you had it in your list. Is that okay?” 

Mike nodded and started the movie. “How was the date?” He asked, needing to say something. Otherwise he knew that he’d keep staring at Stan from the corner of his eye. At least this way he could openly turn and watch him. 

Stan took a long drink of wine before responding. Then he spoke, keeping his voice even. “It wasn’t… great. He wasn’t like he’d been described. We didn’t have a lot in common.” Mike could tell that Stan wasn’t saying something but didn’t want to push. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Stan sighed. “Me too, a bit. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date.”

“Why?” Mike asked then cringed. “It’s none of my business, you don’t have to-” 

But Stan waved him off and explained, “I was dating someone, for a few years. We broke up a few months ago. My friends think I should get back out there. Back in the saddle, as it is.”

Mike nodded. “But if you’re not ready-”

Stan shook his head. “It’s not that. It's that I don’t want to go on stiff first dates. I hate them. I don’t want to sit with a table between us, picking at fancy bread. It’s miserable.” 

He nodded again. Mike got that. He felt the same. It was fine at first, to go out and meet new people but a large part of him just wanted this, someone to come home to and drink wine with. 

“Dating sucks.” Mike said.

“I’ll drink to that.” Stan said, raising his glass and clinking it with Mike’s. Both smiled at each other. 

The pair fell into comfortable conversation, Stan asking Mike what he did for a living. Mike asked Stan about his hobbies. They complained about the building manager and gossiped about the neighbor who seemed to be running an illegal ferret breeding operation. Mike didn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much. 

As they talked the movie delivered it's first jump scare. Stan leapt so high that Mike was surprised his wine didn’t spill. He also let out a small squeak that Mike found adorable. 

“Why did you pick this again?” He asked, teasing Stan. 

“I wanted to see it! I’m just not great at actually watching the movies.” 

Hesitating for a just a beat Mike made another impulsive decision. “Come over here,” Mike said, patting next to him. “At least then you can squeeze my hand.”

Stan looked at him, caution in his eyes, “Are you sure?” Mike nodded, grateful that Stan quickly scooted over, nestling into Mike. He held his hand out and Stan slipped his own in. He decided that this was both his best and worst idea yet. He liked having Stan curled up next to him, head barely resting on his shoulder. But his heart was also hammering so loud he was sure Stan could hear it. 

But the next scare Stan squeezed his hand and buried his head in Mike’s shoulder and Mike decided that it was a brilliant idea. “Stan, it’s okay.” Mike said, rubbing his thumb over Stan’s hand. “We can turn it off.”

“No,” Stan looked up at him and Mike was overwhelmed with how close they were, he could easily kiss Stan now, barely even moving. Stan’s cheeks were flush with the wine and his hair had escaped the gel he’d used. He looked gorgeous. Mike nearly reached out to stroke his cheek. “I want to finish it.” Mike nodded, not, about to argue.  

They talked more through the movie, making jokes and talking about how the villain from this was, supposedly, dating another supernatural villain and about whether they would make the same decision as the protagonist. It was the best date Mike had been on in a while and it was over far too quickly. Stan stayed next to him the whole time, his head eventually falling onto Mike’s shoulder. 

“I should go.” Stan said as the credits started. He didn’t sound like he really wanted to. 

Mike nodded, feeling a chill as Stan moved away from him. “Thank you for the wine, and the company.”

“Thanks for the shower.” Stan said, standing and walking to the door. 

“Anytime.” 

Mike’s reply came a beat too late. Stan was already out the door and Mike was alone in his apartment. He groaned to himself, wondering if he should have done something- kissed him or asked him to say, anything. He wondered if he missed his chance. 

But then, as he was thinking about standing up and rinsing the wine glasses, there was another knock on the door. 

Mike opened it and, for the third time that day, Stan was behind it. “Did you forget something?” 

Stan sighed at him, annoyed. “I don’t get you. We’ve been flirting for weeks. I came over today to use your shower. Then I brought wine.” Stan threw his hands up and looked at Mike. “Do you not like me? Am I reading this wrong?” 

“I-” Mike was surprised and trying to think of a response. 

Stan took it as rejection. He deflated and started to turn back to the door. “Fine. I guess I did..”

“No!” Mike hand reached out, grabbing Stan’s wrist to stop him. 

“No?” Stan asked, turning around, eyebrow arched. “Mike it's fine, I won’t make it weird. I promise.” 

“No I do like you.” Mike huffed and tried again. “I like you. But you came over here talking about your date and I wasn’t - I didn’t-” He took a breath. “I’m not going to hit on a guy who’s going on a date.” He explained. “Even one who shows up in a slightly too short bathrobe.” 

Stan smirked then asked “What about a guy who holds your hand and and brings wine?”

Mike shrugged, not bothering to hide his smile. “I guess I could hit on him.” 

Stan laughed, quick and short but earnest. “Good.” He looked at Mike. “You’re still holding my wrist.”

“It’s part of hitting on you.” Mike answered easily, bringing Stan’s hand to his mouth and kissing the inside of his wrist. He didn’t miss the sharp intake breath from the other man. Then Mike asked, “Come here often?”

The sides of Stan’s mouth quirked up and he gave a quick eye roll. “That’s a terrible line.” 

Mike shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve got plenty of better ones though. You can hear them all if you let me take you out.” 

“Smooth.” Stan said, smiling now. He nodded. “I’d like that, a lot.”

“Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft happy boys


	14. Hanzier Prank- NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'You played a prank on me and now I'm going to play one on you except oops this accidentally got hot'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzier - Rated M

Richie crouched behind the closet door, clamping his hand over his mouth to stop the rising giggle from escaping his mouth. This was his best prank yet, he decided. He couldn’t wait for Mike to walk in and fall on his bed, like he always did after practice. Only this time Richie had carefully placed a layer of whipped cream and syrup under Mike’s blanket (after covering the mattress with plastic, he was funny, not cruel). He knew as soon as Mike laid down he’d be covered in the sticky mess and couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

The pair had been in a prank war all year, ever since they decided to be roommates.  And it was escalating. It had been harmless stuff at first- saran wrap over the toilet, replacing oreo creme with toothpaste- but those soon got left behind as the pranks got more elaborate. Mike’s last prank had been setting all of Richie’s alarms and clocks ahead so that he woke up at 3am thinking he was late for a midterm. Richie had to admit that he was impressed by that one- once he had figured out why the building was locked and it was dark outside. 

But this one was better. He bit down on his lip to stop sniggering as Mike entered the room, still sweaty from football practice. Then Richie started to have a different problem, especially as Mike pulled off his shirt, easily throwing it in the hamper. He forced himself not to stare as a the bead of sweat rolled down Mike’s neck and to his chest. When Richie was there Mike was rarely shirtless, which was probably a good thing for him. Richie had to bite back a very different noise as he stared at Mike’s broad back. 

Richie had noticed that Mike was hot right away, there was no point in denying it and he didn't try. Everyone talked about the sexy quarterback, Richie was just lucky enough to know that he was as warm and funny as he was attractive. 

But the other feelings Richie had, the fact that he wanted to be railed by Mike AND hold his hand after, those Richie would deny until his dying day. He valued Mike’s friendship too much to fuck it up with sex, no matter how good his ass looked in those tight pants. 

Shaking his head he focused again on Mike, watching as he lowered himself onto the bed. For a split second Richie thought that nothing was going to happen, that his prank had failed. But then Mike cried out as he sunk down, whipped cream and syrup oozing through his thin covers, fat dollops falling to the floor. 

“Richie! What the fuck!” Mike cried, standing up and throwing the sheet onto the floor, revealing the mess. 

Richie was cackling now, not trying to hold it back. Mike heard and walked to the closet, throwing open the door. 

“Really man?” He said, gesturing to his back. It was covered in whipped cream and syrup. Richie was delighted. 

“Hey you woke me up at in the middle of a REM cycle,” Richie said, throwing his hands up. But Mike wasn’t listening. Instead he was picking Richie up and throwing him down on the bed, getting him covered in the sticky sweet substance. 

“I kinda like it here,” Richie said with a smirk. “It’s like dessert in bed.” He said, picking up a handful and licking it off his fingers. “Delicious.” 

Mike grimaced, “That’s disgusting.” But Richie didn’t miss how his eyes grew darker.  Richie did it once more, making sure he hadn’t misread the expression. He swirled the finger in his mouth and Mike’s eyes stayed on him. 

Refusing to think about his actions Richie darted a hand out, grabbing Mike’s wrist and pulling him on top of Richie and the mess. 

“Fuck really?” Mike asked, looking down. His arms were covered now. “This is so gross. It’s on the floor. We’re gonna get ants.” His other arm was braced over Richie’s hip, holding himself up. Richie didn’t miss how the fingers curled on him, holding him protectively. 

“We’ll name each on ant-ony and start a colony.” Richie replied with a shrug.

Mike rolled his eyes but Richie saw a smile creep on his lips. “If you’re so pleased with this-” Mike started then grabbed a handful of the substance, smearing it on Richie’s face. As he did he leaned over Richie, bringing himself closer. 

Richie was surprised for only a second, then he retaliated, grabbing his own handful and aiming for Mike’s face too. Except he darted and Richie only hit his chest. Richie’s hand slid down it, too slow to be casual. He couldn’t see because his glasses were covered but he did hear the reaction. A small moan escaped Mike’s lips and Richie’s dick jumped to attention. 

Both stopped, hesitating for a minute. Richie could hear the gears in Mike’s mind turning, trying to come up with an explanation or excuse. But Richie didn’t want that, he wanted Mike. 

_ Fuck it, _ He thought, reaching up with his whipped cream covered hand and tugging Mike down. He kissed him hard, almost missing Mike’s mouth, then released him, letting Mike pull back if he wanted. But Mike didn’t move, instead he stayed with his lips pressed against Richie’s, his tongue prodding his lips. Richie parted them and their tongues danced, Richie’s tasting vaguely of the sweet mix and Mike’s slightly dry from practice. 

Richie ran his hands down Mike’s back, covering him in more whipped cream but also feeling his muscles. He couldn’t stop touching Mike, not when he’d wanted to for so long, His hands were all over, feeling the bumps of mike’s spine, the tightness of his abs, the strength in his arms. He groaned into Mike’s mouth, unable to believe how real he felt, how good it felt to touch him. 

Mike’s hands stayed firmly planted on the bed, keeping himself above Richie, not touching any other part of him until Richie found his neck again and tugged Mike down, forcing their chests and hips to collide. Both moaned and Richie arched his hips, seeking more friction, more contact. Mike ground down into him, their erections touching and Richie thought he might explode. It was too much and not enough. 

Then Mike broke the kiss by pulling back. “We should talk about this.” He said, broad chest heaving slightly against Richie’s narrow one. 

“I want you to fuck me.” Richie said, pulling off his glasses. He couldn’t make out all the details of Mike’s face but could see his shocked expression. “How’s that for talking?” He tried to kiss Mike’s neck but he moved back more. 

“We’re roommates.” 

“Good, no one will walk in on us.” Richie punctuated this with a roll of his hips. He felt Mike shudder at this. 

“Richie,” Mike’s voice was warm but also firm. “We should talk. And shower.” 

“Okay let’s go take a shower.” Richie agreed, know that no one else would be in there now. He arched up and started to kiss Mike’s neck. This time Mike didn’t move and Richie got to enjoy the salty taste of sweat mingled with the sweet whipped cream. 

“ _ Richie _ .” Despite Mike’s tone he hadn’t gotten up but he wasn’t making an effort to touch Richie. Richie should have known Mike would want to talk about it. He could barely sign up for classes without making a flowchart.

So Richie talked. “I’ve been checking you out all semester. I’ve ruined so many socks thinking about you inside me. I want this.” 

“Even when you’re confessing your feelings you’re disgusting.” Mike said, smiling.

“I’m hoping you like that.” It was as close as he’d let himself get to being open and honest. Right now at least. 

He watched Mike swallow. Then nod. “I do. I’ve-ruined socks too.” 

Richie grinned, “Fucking hot. I can’t believe I missed that.” He kissed Mike again. “Now, that shower?”

“Let’s go.” Mike got off Richie then offered him a hand, pulling Richie up and into his arms. They kissed again, both smiling against the other’s lips and Mike grabbed two towels and soap before they walked the short trip to the showers, not bothering to try and keep their hands off each other. Richie was reaching for Mike’s shorts in the hall, wanting to touch the v of his hips. Mike had to grab his hand and suck on his fingers to get him to stop, which made Richie groan embarrassingly loudly. He didn’t care though. He wanted everyone to know he was with Mike. 

Finally they were in the showers which were mercifully empty. Richie immediately went for Mike’s shorts, palming him. 

“You’re impossible.” Mike said, his eyes falling shut as Richie touched him.

“Part of my charm.” He replied, pulling Mike into another kiss. “Let’s get clean.”

Mike nodded, letting Richie lead him to a stall and strip off his clothes. Richie’s eyes lingered, his hands sweeping over the arches and lines of Mike’s body as he finally let himself look and touch the other man as much as he desired. Mike was doing the same, hands roaming Richie’s chest and arms.

“Fuck, this is really happening.” Mike said, eyes raking over Richie’s hips then, lower. 

“I hope so.” Richie said, pulling Mike under the water stream. He took the soap from Mike, lathering it up before running his hands over Mike’s chest and hips. He purposefully ignored Mike’s erection, his hands barely grazing it even as Mike moaned and angled his hips. Finally Mike took charge, pushing Richie against the wall and kissing him deeply, grinding their hips together. 

“Were you serious?” Mike asked, running his nose over Richie’s neck and kissing him. “You want me to fuck you?” 

Richie nodded, not trusting his voice. Mike growled, turning Richie so he was facing the wall. Mike’s hands ran over his back before grabbing his ass with both hands. Richie gasped as he felt Mike grind against him, his erection slipping between Richie’s cheeks. 

“Good, because I’ve wanted that for so long.” Mike whispered in Richie’s ear, kissing along the column of his neck. Richie heard a pop then, soon after, felt a finger prod his hole. Mike must have grabbed lube too, without him noticing. He would never make fun of Mike’s planning again. He hissed as Mike’s finger slipped in, tensing for a second then relaxing as Mike opened him up. Mike continued to kiss Richie, telling him how good he looked, how much he liked the noises, until he had three fingers in and Richie was begging Mike to fuck him. 

“Turn around. Want to see you.” Mike said, slipping his fingers out. Richie heard a condom ripping and Mike groaning as he rolled it on. Richie felt empty but only briefly. Once he turned Mike coaxed his legs over his hips then, sandwiching Richie between himself and the wall, slipped in, making both exclaim. Richie couldn’t decide what he liked more- having Mike hold him up or having Mike inside of him. 

“Mike,  _ god _ , I’m so full. Fuck, you fill me up so well.” Richie said, his head falling against the wall as both started to move. His hands gripped Mike’s face, pulling him in for another deep kiss. Richie let Mike set the pace, Richie couldn’t do much besides hang onto Mike. He knew he was too keyed up to last long- the way the water fell off Mike’s muscles, the steam from the shower, the way his erection kept rubbing against Mike’s stomach- it was all building. Mike’s hands were on his ass, spreading him as he slammed into him, grunts matching his thrusts.

It wasn’t long until Richie was touching himself, cumming messily over his stomach barely a minute later. Mike gave one more long thrust as he came, burying his head in Richie’s shoulder for a minute before putting Richie down.

“At least clean up is easy.” Richie said, kissing him again. Mike chuckled, kissing Richie lightly on the lips before running his hands over Richie’s arms. 

“Does this mean the prank war is over?” Mike asked, pulling off the condom and tying it off.

Richie shook his head. “Never, now that I know it makes you all hot and bothered, I’m upping my game.” 

Mike laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	15. Stanlon First Date (nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combo of these 2 prompts: “I noticed the way you were watching me eat this popsicle so I purposely started making it an innuendo and now we’re both hot and bothered” sex + stanlon  
> “You’re intentionally getting under my skin so I threaten to spank you/playfully spank you and now you look like you just got banged against a wall” sex For stanlon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to the chap 13 prompt, since some folks requested it!  
> NSFW!

“Wait, you’ve never seen a cow?” Mike repeated incredulously. “Never?”

“No!” Stan turned to him. “For the third time, I grew up in the city. We don’t have cows here.”

Mike still found this very hard to believe. “What about field trips though? You don’t have those either?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, never heard of them.” Stan deadpanned. “We just sat in our little desks and colored in gray pictures all day.” Then he playfully pushed Mike. “You jerk, of course we did but we went to museums and shit. Not to see cows.”

Mike laughed, enjoying the way Stan’s eyes lit up as he did. It was their first date and it was going well. They had gone to a local science museum that had an exhibit on livestock- which wasn’t very interesting by Mike’s standards but Stan seemed to enjoy it. And it made for easy conversation, Mike got to tell Stan about where he grew up and Stan asking him question after question. Mike had been giving him shit for not having seen any livestock in person and loved how quickly Stan quipped back.

“Now tell me Mike, did the chickens sleep with you? Nestled under your arm all warm and cozy?” Stan asked, pointing to a photo of a farmer sleeping under a tree, surrounded by chickens. “Because from what you’ve said I can picture it, complete with straw hate and overalls.” 

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “If I was straight I’d make a joke about being surrounded by chicks.”

“Lucky for me you aren’t.” Stan said, smirking slightly. 

Mike easily grinned back. He was really enjoying this date. 

They moved to the next exhibit, showing the difference in horse vs cow anatomy. “Have you seen a horse? Or is that another strange, foreign creature?” 

“Ha ha,” Stan replied dryly. “Just because not all of us grew up out on the range around a campfire doesn’t mean I haven’t seen a horse.”

“You’re thinking of cowboys.” Mike told him. 

Stan shrugged. “Cowboys, farm hands, same difference. You both spend too much time outside with four legged animals.” He said, turning away from Mike to read the plaque. “I’ve heard stories about those long nights and what cowboys do to stay warm...” He added. 

Unthinkingly, Mike raised his hand, intending to slap at Stan’s back at his joke. But he missed, terribly, and hit Stan’s ass instead. 

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry- I didn’t-” Mike started as Stan turned back him. He expected to see an angry expression but instead the curly haired man’s eyes were dark. There was a blush decorating his high cheeks and his lips were parted in surprise. 

_ Oh god he’s turned on _ , Mike realized. And he was too, especially with that expression. He immediately knew he’d do whatever he could to see that look again.

They hadn’t touched much yet, both skirting around what this was, what it meant. Mike had barely even touched Stan yet, the slap was meant to be lighthearted, maybe a way for them to get closer. 

There had been looks. When Mike had knocked on Stan’s door he had noticed Stan’s slightly too long glance at him, eyes lingering on his arms and chest. Mike caught himself staring too, especially when Stan had leaned over to touch some fake chicken feathers. He swore that Stan had bent so his ass was in display. If not, well, it had still worked and Mike had to stop himself from reaching out then. 

And there had been flirting. Constant light hearted flirting and teasing. Earlier, Stan had mentioned that he played baseball and had the most home runs on his team. Unthinkingly, Mike had replied ‘I bet you do’, making Stan choke on his water with a laugh. Mike hastily apologize before Stan added ‘You’ll find out soon enough’. That time Mike choked on his drink. 

So they had chemistry. Mike had known that before, when they were only flirting in the laundry room and not on an actual date, but he was being cautious because they lived in the same building. He didn’t want to push Stan or assume anything. It was only the first date and Mike liked him, maybe more than he wanted to admit. 

But now that he’d gotten that reaction from Stan, plus all the other pieces, Mike was feeling more hopeful that this date would end with more than an awkward handshake. 

“It’s okay.” Stan said, taking a long look at Mike that made him want to push Stan against the wall just to keep Stan’s eyes on him. 

_ Yea it is, more than okay. _ Mike thought, following Stan as they went to another display. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. About Stan’s lips on his or his hands under Stan’s shirt. He was having thoughts that were not appropriate for a museum. 

Cautiously, trying to focus on what he could do that wouldn’t end in a lifetime ban from one of his favorites places, he snaked an arm around Stan’s waist as they read, giving him time to move away if he wanted. Instead Stan leaned into his touch, gingerly putting his head on Mike’s shoulder.  It felt like they fit together in a way that Mike had experienced before. He wanted to kiss him but as the thought entered his mind a group of giggling kids walked by. He cursed himself for taking Stan out in public for their first date. The non-date had been intimate and private. But no, for this first real date they had left the comfort of his apartment and gone here, where clothes and decency were required. 

_ Idiot _ . 

They continued around the museum, teasing each other and sharing stories. 

“I need to meet this Richie guy, there’s no way he’s as bad as you say.” Mike said as they left, walking into the summer heat. 

“No, he’s much much worse. I haven’t even told you about rooming with him in college.” Stan said. They glanced at each other, both seeming to try and think of a way to extend the date. They’d driven together but Mike didn’t want to go back yet. Inviting Stan to his place felt like it still implied too much. 

“We could walk near the river?” Mike suggested. It was too hot for it but maybe near the river would be cooler. Stan nodded and they set off, Stan explaining how Richie had made himself into a post modern art piece for one of their finals and had nearly gotten kicked out of school for it.  Both were sweating by the time they made it to the sidewalk near the water. 

“Can I buy you a popsicle?” Mike offered, seeing a stand near the road. Stan nodded and picked out one in the shape of spiderman’s head while Mike got a bomb pop. 

“Spidey is looking rough these days.” Stan commented as one of the eyes fell off. 

“Budget cuts.” Mike said, trying to lick his before it could melt. It was a losing battle. He glanced at Stan, about to comment on it but the words died on his lips. Stan was taking soft kitten licks all over the popsicle, carefully rotating it so none dripped off. The sight of Stan’s tongue darting out with small, precise licks nearly made Mike groan. 

Stan caught him watching, looking confused and then smiling as he realized the effect he was having on Mike. He would never have expected Stan to be so blatant about something like this but he kept licking it, watching Mike as he did. His licks got longer and a smile crept over his lips. He was enjoying this, having Mike’s full attention. Mike would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it too. 

Mike had forgotten all about his popsicle until Stan pointed to it. “Do you want some help with that?” Stan asked, his voice somehow still light, like he wasn’t trying to kill Mike via sugary summer treat. 

Mike nodded, letting Stan take his hand and guide it to his lips. Stan wrapped his lips around the tri-colored popsicle and pushed his lips down, maintaining eye contact with Mike as he did. 

“Fuck.” Mike whispered, unable to stop himself. It was ridiculous, they were still in public, even though no one was near them at the moment and Mike was more turned on than he had been in a long time. 

Stan pulled back, his lips slick with the popsicle and slowly licked them, eyes still locked on Mike. Unthinking, Mike grabbed the back of Stan’s neck with his hand, pulling him close and kissing him. Stan responded, parting his lips and pushing his tongue into Mike’s mouth. It was cool and sweet with the syrup and Mike nearly groaned at it. Stan pressed into him, his free hand winding around Mike’s hip to keep him close. Both of them clung to each other, month of flirting finally spilling out on the hot summer sidewalk. 

They finally broke apart when someone walked past, coughing loudly. 

Mike looked at Stan, who was blushing deeply, and smiled. “Could I interest you in coming back to my place?” 

Stan nodded, his eyes dark. Mike briefly wondered if he should just rent a hotel room and drag Stan up there but he didn’t want that. The appeal of seeing Stan spread out on his bed was too great. 

He almost reconsidered that idea as Stan threw away their popsicles then took Mike’s hand, drawing a finger to his mouth and slowly licking the syrup off. The noise that came out of Mike was something between a whimper and a groan.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He said, watching Stan’s satisfied grin.

Stan shrugged. “You couldn’t figure out that I was hitting on you before, I wanted to be clear this time.” 

Mike chuckled. “It’s crystal clear.” 

Mike wasn’t sure how they made it back to his place. It was a mixture of starts and stops, both taking every opportunity to push the other against any surface and make out with them until someone came by. Once they were in the car Mike forced himself to watch the road and not Stan. It was the longest drive he’d ever been on. His hand itched to reach over and touch the other man, anywhere he could. 

Stan seemed to feel the same. Mike could feel his gaze and once or twice his finger reached over and lightly stroked his hand or forearm. 

Finally Mike had parked and they were in his apartment. He half expected one of them to feel awkward or decide to stop but instead once his door was closed both were on each other again, hands roaming, lips attached. With no one to break them up they quickly moved to Mike’s bedroom where Stan began to attack Mike’s neck, leaving bruising kisses over the column of his throat. Mike fell onto his bed, pulling Stan with him and on top of him. He loved how disheveled Stan looked, his normally neat curls were mussed and his lips were red and bruised. Mike knew he could get used to it. 

“Mike, can I take this off?” He asked, playing with his shirt and Mike nodded, not about to stop anything that Stan wanted. His shirt was discarded and Stan’s lips roamed over him, nipping his clavicle and kissing his chest. He couldn’t believe how amazing it felt, Stan alternated between gentle kisses and rough ones and Mike arched into them, straining to keep Stan’s lips on him but Stan’s hands push him back down, gently pushing his shoulders back onto the bed and rubbing circles into his skin. 

Mike’s hands were busy too, untucking Stan’s shirt and running his hands over Stan’s back, fingers feeling each bump on his spine and the way his shoulder blades moved under him. He pulled the shirt off, adding it to the pile on the floor. 

Stan’s hands worked down, finally playing with his belt buckle and undoing it slowly. Mike hissed as Stan pulled them off, his erection springing free. 

“That popsicle had nothing on you.” Stan commented, gazing down appreciatively. 

“Different shape for sure.” Mike replied, earning a quick laugh from Stan. Then Stan’s mouth was occupied as a the kitten licks from earlier started again, this time covering his dick, starting at the head and working down. Mike groaned, trying not to thrust up. He wanted Stan’s mouth on him, though Stan seemed in no hurry. He took one of Mike’s balls in his mouth, sucking on it gently before moving onto the other one. His hands roamed over Mike’s thighs. Mike’s own hands were in Stan’s hair, gripping the curls as tightly as he dared. 

“Stan, please.” Mike asked as Stan licked a striped along the underside of Mike, pausing at the tip. He liked the teasing, and Stan seemed to enjoy it too but Mike wasn’t above begging. Half of him thought that Stan would make him but then Stan looked up at him and almost lazily he pushed his lips over the head, his tongue swirling over the head. He pushed his lips down, watching Mike’s strained reaction. For his part Mike was groaning loudly, not bothering to hold back any noises. Stan’s mouth felt amazing on him, even though he was still moving so slowly. 

Finally his nose pressed to Mike’s stomach and he started to bob his head in earnest now, Mike groaning as Stan’s head moved. Stan’s hands found his balls, playing with one while the other pressed on his stomach. He fell back, losing himself in the sensation and letting the sensation wash over him. 

“Fuck, Stan, I’m going to-” Mike tried to warn him but Stan waved him off, starting to move faster. With a grunt Mike came, his hands still wound in Stan’s hair. After a beat Stan pulled off, giving Mike a small smile and he pulled Stan up, kissing him hungrily and tasting himself on his lips. Mike’s hands moved over Stan, still ramped up from his orgasm and wanting to return the favor. 

“It’s your turn now.” He said, palming Stan’s erection. Stan keened into his touch.

“You don’t have to.” Stan said, even as he bit his lip at Mike’s hand sliding into his pants. He gripped Stan, maneuvering so the tight shorts weren’t an issue. He had intended to take them off, to tease Stan like he had done to Mike, but Stan was so hard under his hand and had thrown his head back, making shaky little breathy noises and Mike couldn’t do it. He pushed Stan onto the bed then his other hand undid Stan’s button and zipper and Mike’s mouth was on him instantly, salty pre-cum coating his tongue as Stan cried out. He bobbed his head as Stan muttered words of encouragement. Mike couldn’t make most of them out but understood the intent. 

Before long, he felt Stan tense up, his breath hitching, and then he came, shooting into Mike’s mouth with a long cry. Mike waited a beat before taking his lips off then looked at Stan, who was smiling down at him. Mike thought he looked angelic and somehow near that Stan would hate to hear that. 

“This isn’t how I expected this date to go.” Mike said, moving back next to him and putting an arm around him. He wasn’t sure if Stan wanted to leave but he didn’t want to give him the chance to disappear, not yet. 

“Did you expect me to be boring?” Stan asked, rolling on his side to face Mike.

Who smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I thought you’d be dullsville.” 

Stan kissed him lightly. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

_ Good _ . Mike thought, pulling Stan closer to him and kissing him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That spiderman thing was one of the funniest things I've ever written and Im so damn proud of it


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:Do you mind writing unrequited/one-sided relationships when it comes to the losers because I haven’t been able to stop thinking of stanlon with one-sided hanbrough for the life of me, and I was wondering if you would write something about it whenever you had time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok look this is kinda Bill being a dick. So be warned. If you're a huge Bill fan this may not be your jam.

Bill couldn’t stop watching them. His eyes stayed on the pair as they moved on the dance floor, Mike’s eyes lighting up at something Stan said, Stan’s hands curled on Mike’s shoulders.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of them, so wrapped up in each other and utterly in love. It was like no one else existed as long as they were together. 

It was sickening and Bill hated it. He hated every second of it.

He didn’t know why he had agreed to go to prom. It was a terrible idea. Things had been awkward among the losers since the thing they’d quietly dubbed The Incident. The incident being him drunkenly showing up at Mike’s doorstep with wilted flowers and demanded to see Mike. When they were alone in Mike’s room he had confessed his feelings, explaining that he’d liked Mike for years, since before he even fully known that he’d like boys he’d known that he felt something  _ more  _ for Mike. It had taken him years to put words to his feelings. He had just known that he’d do anything to see Mike smile and that he always wanted to be close to Mike, finding ways to hold his hand or sleep by him at their sleepovers. 

Mike had listened to all of it, his brown eyes never leaving Bill. When Bill had started crying, snot running down his face, Mike had handed him tissues, waiting until he blew his nose to pull Bill into a comforting hug. Bill had practically collapsed into Mike, feeling like he was home as long as he was with Mike. 

And then Mike had explained that he was with Stan now, that he’d been with Stan for months. Mike had said that he was flattered but he didn’t know what to do. He wished he could fix this for Bill but there wasn’t anything he could do. Bill had wanted to tell him that the fix was easy- be with him and not Stan. It was so obvious to him but Mike never even mentioned it. Instead he let Bill cry until he was out of tears and then handed him a pair of spare pajamas, saying that Bill shouldn’t go home now, that his parents would kill him if they saw him like that. Numbly, Bill had put on the pajamas and laid in the sleeping bag that Mike had put out, Mike still sitting with him until Bill closed his eyes. He tried to think of what else to say, of some way to make Mike see that they should be together but he couldn’t.

He heard Mike slip out of the room when he thought Bill was asleep, calling Stan and telling him what happened. It made something furious curl in Bill, to hear Mike talking about him with so much pity in his voice. Mike was asking Stan what he should do and he could practically hear Stan telling him to leave it, that there was nothing Mike could do. 

He had wanted to get up, to scream at Stan that he would never appreciate Mike like Bill would, but he didn’t. Instead he let himself drift to sleep, imagining that he was in Mike’s room under different circumstances. 

Things had been strained with the group since then. Stan seemed more possessive of Mike, grabbing his hand or kissing his cheek the minute Bill appeared.  Bev was being far too nice, offering to get coffee with him or go to a movie. Richie was making too many jokes, trying to cover the awkward silence that fell over their lunch table, Eddie and Ben would throw him pitying looks when they thought he wasn’t looking. 

It was all awful. He thought that he’d feel better after telling Mike, maybe he’d start to move on. Instead now it felt like he couldn’t focus on anything but Mike, on his kind eyes and warm smile. It was all worse. 

And now he was here. Because Bev had insisted that he couldn’t miss their senior prom. That was easy for her to say. She was out there dancing happily with her boyfriend. She’d dragged Bill out for a few dances, saying that the three B’s needed to stick together, but once a slow dance started Bill had disappeared back to their table, watching everyone else dance. 

At the sight of Stan kissing Mike’s cheek he took another drink from the flask he had tucked in his suit pocket. It was the only thing that made the night tolerable. He sat on his own for a while, no one was bothering to make him dance now. 

At least until he saw Stan pulling Mike off the dance floor and into a dark corner. He forced himself to watch them, Mike stopping abruptly and pulling Stan into his arms, kissing him deeply. He couldn’t stop the hiss that escaped from him. Glancing back he saw that his other friends were happily dancing, lost to the music. Taking his punch and flask he stood, deciding to leave the dance floor and go anywhere else. 

He ended up outside. The air was slightly too cool for it but he didn’t care. He didn’t deserve to be comfortable right now. 

Sitting down on the pavement he looked at the dark parking lot. He couldn’t go back in there. He wouldn’t. It was too hard. Seeing Mike happy with someone else was eating away at him and he couldn’t handle it. He took another drink and cradled his head in his hands, letting himself wallow in his self pity. 

“Bill.” He felt someone sit down next to him, knowing right away that it was Eddie. Eddie was his first friend and was always the person to come running to him when something happened. He was always there for Bill, and always will be. It comforted Bill slightly to know that. “Are you okay?” Eddie put a hand on his lower back, rubbing gently.

“Go back inside.” He muttered, not lifting his hands. “I don’t want to ruin your night too.”

“You’re not ruining my night Bill, you’re my friend and you’re having a hard time. I want to be here for you.” 

Bill leaned against Eddie, letting himself be comforted. “It’s just so fucking hard Eddie, to see them so happy like that. It  _ sucks _ .”

“I know.” Eddie said, making soft shh’ing noises. “I felt like that with Richie too.” 

Bill took a long swig from his flask, enjoying how the drink muddled some of the pain. He felt pleasantly fuzzy, especially next to Eddie. 

“But now you’re with him!” Bill whined. “It’s different. I’ll never be with Mike.” He finished bitterly as he took another drink. 

“Maybe you should slow down.” Eddie said softly, trying to grab the flask but Bill moved it away, shaking his head again Eddie’s shoulder. 

“No I’mfffine.” It probably would have been more convincing if he hadn’t slurred at the end. But Eddie didn’t make a move to grab it again, he sat there with Bill, not speaking again. 

“Remember when you liked me Eddie?” Bill asked a few minutes later. 

Eddie chuckled and Bill felt him nod. “Of course, you were my first crush.” 

“I shoulda kissed you back that day.” Bill said, tipping the flask to his lips but finding it empty. “When you kissed me at the barrens.” 

“We were 13 Bill.” 

“Still.” Bill sat up, a little too quickly. His head swam. “It would have been so much easier.”

Eddie looked at him, eyes worried. “It worked out. I’m with Richie now. ”

“Missed my shot again didn’t I?” Bill said, leaning into Eddie. The smaller boy tried to lean back but was backed against the handrail. 

“Bill-” Eddie said, tone warning. 

“I’m a fool.” Bill said, leaning in more and closing the gap. Except he missed and kissed Eddie’s chin. 

Eddie leapt up, letting Bill fall onto the concrete steps. “What the fuck Bill. I’m with Richie. You know that!”

“Eddie- shit- I’m sorry-” Bill tried to stand but ended up stumbling. 

Eddie set his jaw and shook his head. “No Bill, fuck you. Just because Mike didn’t choose you doesn’t mean you get to act like this. Like an asshole.” Not waiting for a response he turned on his heel and stalked off. Bill tried to follow but tripped over his feet, nearly falling on the grass.

When he realized he couldn’t catch up with Eddie he decided to go inside and talk to the person who was the real problem.

“Stan!” he called out as he entered the dance floor. Heads immediately whipped to him but none were the one he wanted. “Stan!” He called again. This time he saw Stan, standing next to Mike, hands clasped together.

“What do you want Bill?” Mike demanded, subtly moving so he was in front of Stan. 

“I just want to talk to your boyfriend.” Bill said, stumbling towards them. 

“You’re drunk.” Stan hissed, his eyes narrow. 

“You’re an  _ ass _ .” Bill said, walking up to Stan and poking his chest. “You don’t deserve him.” He barely noticed as the other losers gathered around. Richie was holding Eddie close and some part of Bill registered that Eddie was still pissed off. But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was talking to Stan. 

“Fuck you.” Stan said, curls shaking. “You’re unhappy. Fine. But you can’t react like this. You can’t take your unhappiness out on us.” He had taken a step back, moving out of Bill’s range and Mike was holding his shoulders protectively. 

Bill laughed coldly. “Unhappy? Me? I’m having the time of my fucking life.” He spun around for emphasis. “At least I can tie my shoe without needing to turn on and off a lightswitch five times.” He missed how Mike’s hands curled into fists and the half step forward he took until Stan pulled him back.

“Hey.” Now Ben was in front of him, hands held up. “You don’t need to bring up his OCD. That’s below the belt and you know it.”

“He’s a freak.” Bill spat, tearing his eyes from Stan and looking at Ben. “We never talk about it! But come on! He fucking is.” 

Now Bev spoke. “Fuck you. You don’t talk about friends like that.” 

“Well you also don’t sleep with one of us and move on to the next when it suits you.” He said, looking from Bev to Ben. Her mouth dropped and Ben rounded on him. The normally calm boy was now furious. 

“You need to leave.  _ Now _ . You’re drunk and maybe you don’t mean any of this but you’re being a complete ass. If you want any friends in the morning you better go.”

Bill laughed again, too loudly. The noise rang in his ears. “I’m making a joke. Richie makes all sorts of jokes and you guys love him!”

“Not about this.” Richie said, his voice steel. “There’s lines, you know that.” Bill saw Eddie hide his face in Richie’s chest. 

Other people had gathered around, watching the interaction with interest. Bill ignored them. “What lines Richie? Ones where you cheat on your last girlfriend with Eddie and we all pretend not to know? Or ones where we act like Eddie isn’t a hypo-hypo- makes up illnesses? What are the lines? Tell me. Because I clearly don’t fucking know.” He was vaguely aware that his voice was getting louder but didn’t care. 

“Bill.” Now Mike stepped up, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder. “ _ Stop _ .”

Normally he would have listened. Everyone listened when Mike spoke like that. But he was too far gone. He slapped off Mike’s hand. “I don’t want your pity.” He spat. “I don’t need it.” 

He missed how sad Mike’s eyes got as he turned away. His outburst had finally attracted a teacher and she came over, firmly taking Bill’s shoulders and leading him away, out of the room. None of his friends followed. 

“I called your parents.” She said, sitting him on a hard chair. “Since this isn’t on school property you won’t be suspended but they aren’t happy.”

“Whatever.” He said, slumping in the chair and crossing his arms. She stayed with him until his dad arrived. He barely even looked at Bill as they walked to the car. The ride home was silent. 

“We’ll be having a serious conversation in the morning about your behavior.” His dad said as they walked through the front door. Bill just shrugged and made his way up to his room, letting the door slam behind him.

He fell onto his bed, reaching for his headphones and putting on music as he grabbed an old photo album. Bill spent the rest of the night looking at pictures of him and Mike laughing and clinging to each other. At least no one could take that away from him. 


	17. Canon Mike - Stanlon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: canon adult Mike remembering Stan and their secret teen love welp I'm emotional now bye

 

Mike knew he had to make the phone calls. He couldn’t deny it any longer. The bodies were piling up, kids were dying, IT was back. He didn’t want to call is old friends, the ones who had long forgotten him but he’d never be able to forget, and ruin the happy lives they all had. He knew. He’d kept tabs on them over the years, reading the books Bill wrote, listening to Richie’s show, googling the buildings than Ben created. Everyone becoming successful, happy, in their own way. He was proud of them. 

But there was one friend Mike found that he focused on. He couldn’t help it. He’d read the articles about Stan, infrequent as they were. One when he graduated from college. Another he got married, a third when he started his own business. 

One of those had hurt more than the others. 

He knew, logically, that Stan didn’t remember him. It wasn’t his fault that he forgot the promises they made. It was Derry’s fault, Pennywise’s. Not Stan’s, never Stan’s. But that didn’t make it hurt less. It didn’t stop the way his stomach clenched when he stared at the wedding announcement. At least Stan looked happy, that was something, some sort of relief for Mike. 

He forced himself to pick up his phone, starting with the easiest call- Bill. Mike was prepared for him to not remember but it still pained him to hear the confusion, the skepticism. In the end Bill agreed to come, though he probably wasn’t sure why he had. Mike poured himself a drink before they even hung up, knowing that he had five more calls to make. 

Slowly, he called the others. They all agreed to come, reactions ranging from determined to fearful to confused. Some of them remembered him, just a little, by the end. Richie had asked about his football career. Bev had asked about the farm. It was something. 

Taking a quick shot he dialed the last call. It rang twice and then a familiar voice answered. “Hello, Uris residence.” 

“Hi Stan, it’s Mike. Mike Hanlon.”  He paused there, like he had with the others, letting the gears in Stan’s head turn.

“Mike?” Even hearing him say his name made Mike’s heart clench. He remembered all the times that Stan had said his name, in all the different ways. There had been times he’d whispered it, almost with reverence, when they were alone together, both unclothed as hands roamed and touched new places. Others times he said it sharply as Mike thrust into him, like he couldn’t quite express his emotions any other way. 

His favorite had always been when it was said softly, with love. Stan wasn’t often a soft person, he was all edges and sharp angles, but Mike had been able to melt those walls. He had seen the other side of Stan, the one that liked to be held and have pet names whispered into his ear as he slept. Mike’s reward for dissolving the walls had been the soft sound of his name as he kissed Stan’s fingertips, the look in his eyes as Mike pulled him close. 

Pushing down the memories he said, “Hi Stan.” 

“Why are you calling?” He felt Stan trying to remember. He knew that it would bother him the most. Stan hated forgetting things. It had always been a pet peeve of his. He wanted to be organized and timely. Forgetting ruined that. 

“You need to come to Derry Stan, IT’s back.” There was no better way to say it. Drawing it out wouldn’t help. He knew it was harsh but it was necessary. 

He waited as other memories rang through Stan. He imagined that Stan was touching the sides of his face, where the scars would be. Stan had always hated them, he’d grown his hair out to cover them, so he wouldn’t have to see them every time he looked in the mirror. But when they were alone Mike would gently push the curls back, pressing a gentle kiss to each mark. Stan had asked him why once, why he seemed so eager to celebrate the scars, and Mike had been surprised, the answer was so obvious to him.

“Because they mean you’re alive.” He had told Stan, nudging their noses together. “Because it means you fought evil and won. What could be more worthy of celebrating than that?” 

They’d done that for each other, building the other up after that fateful summer. It had started out with both pretending they were just friends, that there wasn’t anything more between them. Mike would act like he didn’t feel a tug on his heart when Stan called him late at night, knowing that Mike was the only one he trusted. Stan would pretend he didn’t notice how Mike shied away from certain parts of town, opting to always walk with Stan, close enough that their shoulders touched. 

There were lots of careful hand holds, both pretending that it was out of convenience and nothing more. He was always watching the doorway for Stan because he was concerned, that was all. The only reason Stan was curled against Mike because he was warm. They told themselves lies because it was easier than admitting that each had fallen for one of their best friends. 

Mike had taken it, because he thought that that was all he deserved. Even after the events of that summer he still felt like the outsider of the group, though he’d never say that to anyone else. He went to a different school and lived far away. He missed the jokes, the newest reason that Richie was in detention or how Ben had done on the test. He was always a step behind and someone had to fill him in.

Stan was the one to notice it. He’d hang back, explaining to Mike how Richie had gotten in a fight after someone called Eddie a fag or how Ben had set the curve, making several enemies in the process. He  always made sure that Mike was included, that he had a seat saved at the movies and knew when they were going to the barrens. Mike appreciated it. He liked how Stan seemed to take mental notes for him, ticking off his invisible boxes as he explained things to Mike. Sometimes, when Mike couldn’t make it to town, Stan would call him and the pair would talk late into the night, until one of their parents kicked them off. 

“IT can’t be back.” Stan was saying. Mike could almost see him shaking his head. He wondered what Stan looked like now. If his hair was graying or if he had wrinkles. He wondered if he had the same cautious smile.  “We won, we killed IT.” Mike didn’t miss how his voice quaked as he spoke.

“We were wrong. IT’s back. We promised Stan, we all promised.” He tried to keep his own voice steady. He knew the bombshell he was delivering. But he also needed Stan to keep his promise. All 7 of them had to come. They had to keep the promise they had made decades ago.

Stan swallowed and Mike heard a voice in the background. Patty. It sounded like she was asking who it was. She had probably noticed her husband’s distress. Mike wanted to hate her, wanted to be angry that she got what he had wanted, but he knew that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her fault that she had Stan and he didn’t. And hating her wouldn’t change that. 

He was quiet, waiting for Stan to speak again. “Mike.” The change in Stan’s tone told him that he remembered. He remembered  _ him _ . It wasn’t Stan was remembering Derry or the Loser’s. He was remembering Mike. He swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat. 

“Hi Stan.” His voice was thick with emotions. Before the call he didn’t know what he wanted. If he desperately wanted Stan to remember him or if he hoped he wouldn’t. Both would be hell. 

“Fuck.  _ Mike _ .” Stan was crying now. Mike pressed the back of his hand to his cheek, unsurprised when it came away wet. 

“Hi Stan.” He repeated. Because what else was there to say? He couldn’t put everything he felt into this conversation, not when Patty was listening, not while they had to defeat IT. 

“I-” Stan stopped. Mike could hear the tears and a pause. Then he laughed. “How are you?” 

Mike laughed too. The casual question didn’t match the mood. “I’ve been better.”

“I imagine.” 

He heard Stan moving, guessing that he was going someplace more private. Mike didn’t want to talk like this. He wanted to see Stan in person, whatever reunion they had, he wanted to see Stan just once more. 

“I barely remember you.” Stan said once he stopped moving. “But I remember flashes. Holding hands, your lips, sitting next to you, your laugh.” He paused. Mike let him. He tried not to cry. He wanted to tell Stan everything, he wanted him to remember. But he knew that wasn’t how it worked, Stan had to remember on his own. 

“I remember- cows? Red wine. And a field? A full moon?” 

Mike closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Out of all the things for Stan to remember he wasn’t prepared for that one. That was the memory of when they had finally gotten together, years after that fateful summer. Stan had wanted to know if people could actually tip cows. Mike had teased him but they had stolen a bottle of his mom’s wine and gone into the field, looking for a cow to tip. Instead though, they’d ended up in each other’s arms, their lips finding each other, tasting like wine. Mike had thought he would burst with happiness that night, finally having Stan in the way he’d never dared to hope for. It was the start of something amazing.

He realized that Stan was waiting for him to respond. He took a deep breath, hoping that he could say this without tears clouding his words. “That was me.”

Stan laughed. “I know.” He paused again. “I can’t remember your face Mike. I know I liked it. I stared at it for hours. But I can’t remember it.” 

“It doesn't matter.” 

“It matters to me!” He heard the snap in Stan’s voice, the annoyance he had expected from the start. Then, softer, “I want to remember you. I  _ need  _ to remember you.” 

“Even if it means remembering everything else?” He wished he could spare the others this. There was no way that the good memories could come back without the bad ones. It didn’t work that way. 

“Yes.” Stan said it without hesitance but Mike didn’t think he’d say that once he started to remember the sewers, the smell of death, how scared they all were. 

“You’ll remember soon enough.” Mike told him. “Especially once you’re back in Derry.”

“No.” Mike’s eyes snapped open at that. It wasn’t an angry no, or a cruel one. Mike wasn’t even sure that it was directed to him. But it was firm. Then, softer, with fear creeping in, “Don’t ask me to Mike, please.” 

“You have to come back.” Mike said, firmly but with compassion. “It has to be all of us.” That was the only way it would work, it was the only way they’d win. Mike was certain.

“I can’t, Mike. I can’t.” Now Stan was near tears, his emotions finally spilling over to his voice. “I’m not strong enough.” He knew that Stan didn’t remember everything but he must have remembered something, a flash. 

“You can Stan, you’re so strong. You can do this. We’ll all be there. I’ll be there.” 

“I’m not- I can’t.” Stan was fully crying now. Mike knew he’d get the hiccups soon, like he always did when he got overwhelmed.

“Stan breath. Take a deep breath, in and out.” He knew what Stan’s panic sounded like, knew when he was near breaking. Seemed some things never changed. 

Almost on cue, the hiccups began. He listened to Stan cry and hiccup for several minutes before speaking again. He kept his voice calm, relaxed. “You have to come back Stan. We have to finish IT. You can do this. I know you can. We’ll all be there. I’ll be there.”

“No.” He said through tears. Another long pause and then Stan spoke. “Just- come out here, come to Georgia. You can meet Patty, I want to see you Mike but not- not like this.”

Mike had to close his eyes. “Stan I can’t, we have to do this. We have to defeat IT.”

“Please Mike, it doesn’t have to be Georgia. What about California? We always used to talk about visiting California, sitting on the beaches?”

Miek wanted to yell. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair for Stan to remember that, to bring that up. “Stan we can’t. We can’t ignore this.” 

“I’m not strong like you Mike, I can’t do this.” Stan’s voice was so small, meek. 

“You’re stronger than you know Stan. You can do this.” Mike insisted. “I’ll be with you, so will the others- Richie, Bill, Eddie. Everyone.” He silently begged Stan to agree, to not ask him to run off with him again, because Mike might break if he did. He’d pack a bag and meet Stan wherever he wanted. It’d be so easy. 

Stan finished crying and sniffled once, twice, before speaking. “I- okay. I’ll come, for you.” 

Mike breathed a sigh of relief and gave Stan the information for the Chinese restaurant. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Stan said once Mike finished.

“Tomorrow.” He agreed. As he hung up he tried to think of everything he had to do for tomorrow, before everyone came, but he couldn’t. All he could think about was seeing Stan again. They’d be in the same room, breathing the same air. 

The next day went by in a flash. Mike couldn't believe they were all here. Bill may have less hair and Ben may have lost weight but they were the same, his friends. It felt like no time had passed as they all drank and caught up, laughing and swapping stories. Richie was as loud as ever and he didn’t miss how close Eddie sat to him, the two were probably holding hands under the table.

But even with his happiness he couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach. Stan wasn’t there and he hadn’t called to say he’d be late or that he was held up. The others had asked in passing but it was forgotten as everyone talked. But Mike couldn’t forget. He needed to see Stan, just to know he was okay, to know that he was alive and happy. 

“Where is dear Staniel?” Richie asked, turning to Mike. “My stories aren’t as good without him here to scoff at me.”

“I’m not sure.” Mike admitted, glancing down at his phone again then at all of them. “He said he’d be here.” He tried not to let his worry show but, of course, they could all hear it. Concerned eyes turned to him, all silently wondering the same thing- if he was okay, if he was coming. 

Eddie was the first to break the silence. He put a hand on Mike’s arm. “Then he’ll be here.” 

Mike nodded, trying to believe him and ignore the fear he felt. But he couldn’t. Something was wrong. He knew it. 

Almost on cue, his phone rang, Stan’s name and number flashing across his screen. But instead of relaxing him it made him more nervous. Everyone fell silent and he silently prayed that he would hear Stan’s voice on the other end, maybe exasperated from the lack of taxis in the small town, maybe tired from hours of travel and layovers, maybe saying he couldn’t come after all, that it was too much. Anything to let him know that he was overreacting, that Stan was fine. 

He raised the phone to his cheek and asked, “Hello?” 

**Author's Note:**

> This took me a while because I didn't want to delete them from the old one and lose my lovely comments :( 
> 
> Sent me prompts! Talk to me! [tinyarmedtrex](https://tinyarmedtrex.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Canon Stan - Stanlon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921006) by [roobarrtrashmouth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roobarrtrashmouth/pseuds/roobarrtrashmouth)




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